


Bloodbound

by ColbyPuppy



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Biting, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Drinking, Eventual Romance, M/M, Needles, Nightmares, Therion is a vampire, Tressa is the annoying little sister Therion never asked for, at least in the first chapter, bed sharing, lots of blood, puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:31:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 126,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColbyPuppy/pseuds/ColbyPuppy
Summary: The day Therion fell was the day it all should have ended. And maybe it had, he can't be sure if he's alive or dead anymore. Man or monster. It's one more reason for him to push people away. He can't risk anyone finding out.Or worse, that he might actually start to care.





	1. Blood and Chains

**Author's Note:**

> Have I warned enough that there will be blood? This is a vampire fic, there will be blood.
> 
> Anyways, I'm a sucker for vampire AUs and, well, quite a few ideas have been bouncing around for a while. So, here's my first ever Octopath fic, it's also going to be my first multichaptered work. Hope you enjoy!

The fall should have been where it all ended. Battered by the cliff side, plunged into the rough rapids below. Even though he was lucky enough to wash up in the shallows downstream, he couldn't move. Therion was defenseless against whatever scavenger found him there, he could only hope as his consciousness faded in and out that he wouldn't be aware when he was inevitably torn to shreds.

  
But it wasn't the end.

 

Therion was jerked back into the waking world as rough hands hauled him unceremoniously from the river shallows at the bottom of the canyon. His head spun, the pain was terrible. He tried to focus, to move or react, but his body refused to respond. There was sound, the person dragging him saying... something. Everything in his mind was too muddled to make out the words clearly.

  
The dragging stopped and Therion was dropped to the cold, stony ground. He was left there on his back, staring up at the ceiling of a cavern. The world faded out and back in again, even the act of opening his still working eye was a struggle. There was the distinct sound of chalk being dragged against stone which traveled around him. The voice was back and clearer now, but the words were unfamiliar. What was going on? Who had found him, and more importantly what were they planning on doing with him?

  
Gods it was just his luck, thrown away only to be picked up and used by someone else.

  
Using every last shred of his remaining willpower, Therion was able to convince his head to turn to the side. Strange markings had been drawn around him. Runes? Was, was he at the center of a magic circle?

  
The voice stopped, the markings glowed a deep red. Therion's voice returned in a blood-curdling scream as an entirely new pain surged through his body. The magic boiled in his veins down to the very marrow of his bones. The force pulled together his shattered body, but unlike typical healing magic it burned like his every wound was being cauterized. He could feel shards of bone grate against each other as they were pulled back into place, pain in his mouth as even his teeth shifted, regrew, reshaped. It was too much, Therion blacked out.

  
When Therion came to he found himself on his feet, breathing heavily as though he had been running. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, the metallic taste lingered in his mouth. His own? He had been badly injured. He moved to push his hair from his face and paused.

  
His hand was covered in blood.

  
So was his other hand, so was the body he discovered he was standing over.

  
They had been, judging by the robes, some sort of mage. Their throat had been torn to shreds, nearly decapitated held on only by bone. Therion took in a shaky breath and staggered back. He covered his mouth with his hand before he could think better of it. (He tried not to think about how he didn't find the taste unpleasant, it was refreshing even.) What had he done? Was there a chance he would do something like this again?

  
Better yet, he thought as he looked back at the magic circle behind him, what had this bastard done to him?

 

Though he scavenged what he could from the mage's makeshift lab, Therion had precious little information to go on as to what exactly had happened. He was unable to understand most of the scribbled notes and diagrams, the ones that might have been most useful had tragically been ruined in the apparent struggle that took place while he was blacked out. The amount of bones and partial skeletons pointed toward necromancy. (Peachy, just what he wanted, to be an undead abomination.)

  
In time Therion pieced together the specifics of his newfound condition. For one, his teeth were sharp now. It was easy enough to keep his mouth hidden with his scarf, at least. More concerning were the cravings. He wanted blood, _needed_ it, the longer he tried to ignore it the worse the cravings became. During these times the sun seemed to burn hotter as well, blinding him and searing his skin. It was painful, it was annoying.

  
He found that animal or monster blood could take the edge off, but would never quite satisfy. The need for something more still lingered.

 

The first time he tried feeding on a still living person was during a late night break-in. He was quietly searching through the master bedroom. Every time he caught sight of the sleeping aristocrat, snoring in a drink laden slumber, a voice in his head whispered to him. Tempting him.

  
Just a quick bite, just a taste. If they did wake up he could be gone before they knew what happened.

  
The lordling hadn't even stirred when he sunk his teeth into his neck.

 

In a way, it wasn't too different from thieving. Taking what wouldn't be immediately missed, by the time his victims noticed anything he would be long gone. Satisfying the cravings allowed him to venture in the daylight comfortably, he almost felt normal again. For a time. The need for more blood always crept back over time.

  
Life fell into a sort of routine after that. Day to day thievery to keep himself fed, always keeping an ear out for his next big mark. There were a few close calls along the way, as a result Therion discovered that his injuries healed faster than they had before. This came at a cost, however, the cravings always got much worse after recovering from a serious wound.

  
Over the years he built up a reputation, stories shared excitedly in shady taverns of heists pulled off by a mysterious master thief. Whispered rumors of people awakening with bite wounds on their neck, talk of monsters sneaking into people's homes under the cover of night.

 

When he heard about the mysterious treasure of Ravus Manor, he thought he had found his next big mark. He thought he was cleaver as he tricked the guards and gained access to the heavily guarded building. Everything went off without a hitch, flawless, until he found where the treasure was supposed to be. Until he was snuck up on by the house butler (a butler, of all things! That alone was embarrassing enough.) Therion thought he might at least get away unscathed, up until that damned fool's bangle was locked around his wrist.

  
Being blackmailed into fetching family heirlooms wasn't the worse he's had to endure, but it was definitely the most humiliating. Even worse the Lady of the house, Cordelia, insisted on seeing him off at the edge of town.

  
Whatever, he would do the stupid quest. Find the dragonstones and return them to their rightful owner so he could be free of the bangle and be on his way. He was a master thief, how hard could it be?


	2. Stitches

Therion had to consider his travel plans carefully. Noblecourt was a far ways off, all the way on the other side of the middle sea. The shortest route would be to head north to the Woodlands. This plan was very quickly scrapped after a particularly nasty run-in with a large wild boar. He was able to get away, but not before the beast left a large gash in his left leg. He limped back to the relative safety of the Clifflands, dressing the wound as well as he could with some rags from his pack. It was deep, and if he was still fully human he might have worried about infection.

  
He wasn't really sure what he was these days.

  
Since heading north was too risky, that left the (much longer) southern path. Starting with the Riverlands. Therion wasn't exactly thrilled to set foot there again, the region brought back quite a few memories he'd rather not think about. Of early days just trying to survive, of the one actual friend, partner, he'd ever had. It was bittersweet, genuinely good memories tainted by how it all had ultimately ended.

  
This section of the Riverlands was more wild than the areas he had more or less grown up in. Backwoods, peaceful, the air and water clear and pristine. (A far cry from the condition of Riverford, where the river ran brown and trash littered the shore.) Verdant plants and colorful wildflowers sprouted across the ground, birdsong combined with the soft flow of the river into a relaxing ambiance.

  
He could handle this, this was fine. Therion didn't have to go near any of the major towns located deeper within the region where most of his early memories had been forged. Why, even with the limp he should be able to get to the desert by sundown. It would be best to be able to move over the exposed expanses of sands when the sun wasn't bearing down.

  
The local monsters had other ideas.

  
While the froggens didn't give him much trouble on their own, he was able to send them running with a good few swipes of his dagger or swings of his sword, the giant wasps were another story. They were fast, agile, and a worrying venom dripped from their stingers. Therion did his best to dodge their jabs, but a slight pause from the pain in his leg was just enough for one to land a hit. The stinger sank into the shoulder of his off hand, he swung out to swat the giant bug away with his sword but it was too late. The venom worked fast, relaxing his muscles and making his body go limp as he fell forward- which gave the wasp the opportunity to swoop back in and sting him again. Shit. Fuck. No, he **REFUSED** to be done in by an overgrown bug! He felt the stinger sink into his back again, the world swam around him as he was dragged under by the effects of the venom.

  
Damn it all.

 

Therion shifted as he slowly came to, snuggling into the warmth of the blankets around him.

  
Wait. Blankets?

  
Confused and not quite fully awake, Therion opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. The room was small, modest in construction. Dried herbs hung along some of the walls. The sound of cheerful humming and crackling fire, plus the smell of cooking food, drifted softly through the air. A man with messy blonde hair tied back into a small ponytail sat by the hearth, tending to the meal he was preparing. It didn't seem like he had noticed Therion had woken up yet.

  
Right, time to go. Therion quietly sat up and threw back the blankets, fully ready to slink out of bed and out the door, when he paused.

  
Where. The Fuck. Were his pants?!

  
Therion had been stripped down to just his shirt and smallclothes. The air chilled his bare skin, he felt exposed. All the more reason to get out of here as soon as he could. His eyes were drawn to the wound on his leg, the off-colored rags had been replaced by proper bandages. Somebody treated his leg? Why? And more importantly what else had they looked at while he was out?

  
The time spent staring, baffled, at his legs was enough for the man by the fire to turn around and spot him. The motion of him turning drew Therion's eyes and he quickly moved to cover himself back up with the blanket.

  
The man shot him a cheery smile. "Well, hey now! Good to see you're up!"

  
Therion glared back until the man gave a nervous chuckle, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck. He went on babbling, "heh, gotta say I'm surprised to see ya up so soon. You were stung up pretty bad when I found ya, shoulda been enough to keep ya out another hour or so."

  
"Who are you?" Therion ground out, "where are we, and where are my clothes?" Who the fuck strips someone down when they're unconscious? He bit back his anger, much as he hated to admit he wasn't in a spot to be picking fights right now. Half naked, unarmed, laying in a stranger's bed. (Another point that led to many questions as Therion tried to work out just what this guy's deal was.)

  
The other man stood and it was then Therion noticed just how tall he was, with broad shoulders and thick, muscled arms. He could have been intimidating if he wasn't looking at Therion with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, where are my manners?" He walked over and extended a hand to Therion. "The name's Alfyn, Alfyn Greengrass. I'm a traveling apothecary. It ain't much, but, this is my house. Welcome to Clearbrook."

  
Therion stared at Alfyn's offered hand for a long moment, eyes flicking between it and the other man's earnest, cheerful (and increasingly nervous) smile. Well, an apothecary was better than a necromancer at least, once was enough for that. As for Clearbrook, well, it wasn't a town he had been to before. He relented, shaking Alfyn's hand briefly. "Therion," he mumbled, turning his face away as he responded. He needed to get his scarf back, he never could think of a reasonable way to explain why his mouth was full of fangs.

  
Alfyn's smile brightened, it didn't seem like he had noticed anything out of the ordinary. "Therion? Well, it's nice to meet ya." He moved away from the bedside to a dresser, leaning against the dresser alongside a woodcutter's ax were Therion's sword and dagger. Alfyn lifted what Therion recognized as his scarf and mantle from the top of the dresser before making his way back over to the bed. "Sorry about your pants, they were kinda torn up and bloody. I wanted to get them patched up and cleaned before you woke up but, well," he gave a nervous chuckle, "anyway here's the rest of your clothes."

  
Therion took the bundle and quickly fished out his scarf, wrapping it around his neck and the lower half of his face. He probably looked ridiculous, but whatever. Let the bumpkin think he was eccentric, better than him thinking him a monster.

  
He watched as Alfyn made his way back over to the hearth where a small pot sat simmering over the flames. He stirred for a moment before he went back to talking. "Gotta say, that was quite the cut you had in your leg. I'm surprised you were walkin' around on it." Right, like Therion really had a choice in the matter. Besides, it's not like it would make a difference. It would be fine in a couple days. The apothecary continued, "I got you stitched up, disinfected, the bandages will need to be changed in the morning. It'll be over a week until the stitches can come out, so you'll have to be careful until then."

  
"No." Therion snapped out. Shit, he needed to get out of here. An apothecary would definitely notice _something_ was up when he went to check the cut in his leg, finding it healed more than should be physically possible. "I can take care of myself. Just, tell me what I owe you, give me back my pants, and I'll get out of your hair."

  
"Can you? Hate to tell ya, but you wouldn't have lasted long the way you'd patched yourself up." Alfyn scooped stew from the pot into a couple of bowls. "It could get pretty nasty if it got infected, or if you popped the stitches, and it'll scar up pretty bad if you leave them in too long."

  
He fixed a glare at the apothecary, mind racing. He needed some reason, some excuse-

  
"Well, forgive me if I don't want some pants-stealing pervert looking me over."

  
The dry comment startled a laugh out of Alfyn as he walked back across the room. "Alright, I'll admit that does look pretty bad, hu?" He held out a bowl to Therion. "I'll check and see if they're dry, but why don't we eat first?"

  
Therion eyed the offered bowl with suspicion before begrudgingly accepting it. The hot meal was actually very tempting, but he didn't want to trust the food or risk lowering his scarf again. "Sure, fine, whatever." He prodded at a chunk of potato with his spoon. "But seriously, hands off the leg."

  
Alfyn gave an exasperated sigh as he pulled up a chair, taking a seat by the bed. "Alright, but you should still change the bandages in the morning." Well, that was one less thing to worry about. "You don't owe me anything, by the way."

  
He shot the Apothecary a confused look. "You're kidding, right?" He knew from experience how costly it was to get patched up- especially someone willing to do so no questions asked. "No offence, but, you don't exactly look like you should be turning down leaves."

  
"Heh, yeah, you got a point there. Still doesn't feel right though, I mean you've had a rough enough day without me wringin' your leaves outta ya."

  
Therion huffed. He wasn't wrong, this entire day sucked. Attacked by a boar, almost eaten by bugs, and now this whole situation. "Well, that's awfully generous of you." Too generous. Life on the road would chew this guy up and spit him out.

  
"Guess you could say I'm paying it forward." Alfyn sat his empty bowl on the ground. "Back when I was a kid, I got really sick. Our local apothecary tried everything he could to get me better, but," he shook his head, "nothin' he tried worked. I would have died if a traveling apothecary hadn't stopped by with a cure. Didn't ask for a single leaf, it was just the right thing to do."

  
Well, wasn't he lucky. Therion didn't reply, instead he stared down into his bowl of now lukewarm stew. Alfyn excused himself and stepped out, while he was gone Therion gave in to his hunger and snuck a few spoonfuls of the veggies. He quickly moved his scarf back into place at the sound of the door opening.

  
Alfyn laid out the (still slightly damp) pants by Therion's mantle. "Here ya go, one pair of pants." He stooped to pick up his bowl from the ground. "You're welcome to stay the night, by the way. Just holler if you need anything, okay?"

  
Therion mumbled out a thanks and handed back his bowl. He waited until Alfyn's back was turned to quickly slip out of the bed and finally put on his pants. He winced at the feeling of the gash in his leg, shifting his weight off of it and leaning on the bed to get dressed.

  
He could leave then, he considered as he sat back on the bed. He could easily gather his things, walk out into the night, and be on his way. Still with a limp, with many more regions to pass through and many more monsters on that path.

  
Thinking about it, he really didn't want a repeat of today. It was also unlikely he'd be conveniently saved by some do-gooder apothecary again too. He looked over at where Alfyn still stood with his back turned, tending to the dishes. He really couldn't afford another slip-up like today. He was going to need back up, at least for a little while.

  
"So, you said you're a traveling apothecary?" He tried to keep his tone pleasant, conversational.

  
Alfyn chuckled, "yeah, well, that's the idea at least. Just set out today, or I guess tried to?"

  
Sure. Hilarious. "Heading anywhere in particular?"

  
"Hmm, not really. Thought I'd just see where the road took me." He finished up, setting the bowls aside to dry, then returned to the chair by the bed.

  
"Poetic. You know, traveling alone can be pretty dangerous. Figured if we're headed in the same direction-" He paused, taking in how Alfyn's expression lit up as he spoke.

  
"I'd be thrilled to be your travel partner, Therion!" He held his hand out to him for the second time tonight. "I look forward to getting to know ya!"

  
Partner.

  
He shook the connotations of that word off and took Alfyn's hand. This was fine, this would be fine. This was just a temporary arrangement, like the bangle, once he was done with this stupid quest he wouldn't have to worry about any of this anymore.

 

That night Therion found himself staring up at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Alfyn's soft snoring drift up from the floor. He glanced over at the huddled form of him curled up in his bedroll. He wondered how long this would last for. Surely he would figure out Therion was a thief sooner or later, would he leave then? Or maybe he would just get tired of him, move on the moment someone friendlier came along.

  
The voice, the craving, gnawed at the back of his mind. (Or maybe Therion would be the one to leave. One night lose control, take what he needed and left.) Therion groaned and looked away, doing his best to ignore it. He couldn't give in. This man had his name, had his face, if he figured out that side of him...

  
What would he do? What _could_ he do? He would have to be careful. Mentally he chastised the voice that Alfyn was off-limits before willing himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: The Great Pants Theft


	3. Red Sands

Therion awoke to beams of sunshine filtering onto his face through a window. It felt too bright, just ever so slightly too warm. Annoying, but tolerable. (He knew how much it could hurt, the longer he waited, the worse the injuries he had to heal from.) A quick survey of the room as he sat up revealed that Alfyn was still asleep, and that was good. It gave Therion the chance to check his wound in privacy. But first, he was going to need some bandages. No need to give the apothecary an excuse to try and check up on him.

  
It appeared that Alfyn was a heavy sleeper, which made slinking around the room and digging through his satchel easy. The bandages were easy to find, but Therion wasn't keen on sorting through the vials and jars in an attempt to figure out which one was the proper salve. Whatever, it wasn't like he needed it anyway.

  
Every now and again his eyes trailed back to Alfyn's sleeping form on the floor. The voice whispered, and Therion pushed it away to focus at the task at hand. ( _He just looked so peaceful. Defenseless._ )

  
Sitting back on the bed, Therion propped up his leg and set to unwrapping the bandage. The wound in his leg had healed considerably from the previous day. Alfyn had meant well, but the stitches needed to come out. He probably had some proper tool for getting them out, but for Therion his dagger would suffice.

  
It wasn't the best idea, he nicked himself a few times in the process of cutting and pulling out the thread. He stuffed the lose bits in a pocket, not wanting to leave them where the apothecary might find them and not really knowing what else to do with them.

  
Alfyn stirred as Therion finished wrapping his wound. He yawned, stretched, and mumbled something that could have been a good morning. He sat there for a long moment, rubbing his eyes and groaning, before dragging himself out of his bedroll.

  
Not a morning person, apparently. Therion couldn't help but smirk at that. There was something almost endearing, watching the man who had been all smiles and sunshine just last night quietly grumble to himself as he tried to get a pot of tea going in his half-asleep stupor.

  
"Well good morning, sunshine. Sleep well?" Therion's tone was teasingly cheerful. He couldn't help it, he wanted to try and provoke some sort of reaction.

  
"I'll let ya know when 'm awake." Was the mumbled reply. Therion bit back a chuckle. Well, if nothing else traveling with the apothecary had some entertainment value.

  
Alfyn got a pot of tea going, making enough for both of them. Therion sat with the warm cup in his hands, his things already packed and ready to go. It smelled nice, and after watching the apothecary take a few drinks of his own he hazard lowering his scarf and taking a sip. Drinking tended to be safe, at least. So long as he remembered to temper his expressions while his scarf was down.

  
The tea perked Alfyn up, he allowed himself another stretch before he finally set to packing up his things. "Someone's in a good mood this morning, how's your leg doing?"

  
"Fine. Changed the bandages." He tossed the rest of the roll over to Alfyn.

  
Alfyn caught it and set to placing it back in his satchel, "Oh, good," he rifled through the bag for a moment before looking back over at Therion, "did you need any salve? It, ah, doesn't look like you used any?"

  
Caught. Therion stood and moved casually towards the door. "I'm fine. Now are we going to head out or not?" He didn't wait for a reply before stepping outside.

  
Getting out of town was slow, Alfyn had to stop and chat with every town person they passed. Blessedly most of the conversations were kept brief, a quick greeting with maybe one or two quick questions. Once they got out of town the pace picked up.

  
As they made their way along the path Therion couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on him. Alfyn was staring at him, it was starting to get on his nerves. "Focus on the road, medicine man. We don't want to get caught in an ambush."

  
"Sorry, I just-" Alfyn dragged his eyes away. "Your leg must be feelin' a lot better, y' ain't limpin' near as much as I'd expect ya to."

  
Oh. Shit. He should have thought about that. "I told you, I'm fine. I can take care of my own injuries, I just need you to help keep an eye out for monsters."

  
"Well, alright. Just don't go poppin' your stitches now, y'hear?" He gave Therion a nudge in the shoulder. He wasn't sure he had Alfyn fully convinced, but he was backing off and that was good enough.

 

As it turned out, Alfyn could hold his own in battle. He was scrappy, it was apparent he didn't have formal training or much experience, but when he hit he hit hard. He was even able to send some froggens running with a few well-placed ice spells. However he wasn't very good at avoiding being hit, so Therion did his best to keep the monsters off of him. He grumbled to the apothecary to be more careful, he didn't want to haul his ass back to town.

  
He didn't want to know how he might react, seeing blood spill from his wounds.

 

By midday the two crossed the bridge into the Sunlands. The vast expanse of rolling desert dunes stood in stark contrast to the verdant Riverlands. The dry air and loose sand both burned hot, and Therion regretted that he had to keep his scarf wrapped firmly around his face. While the warmth of his clothes was uncomfortable, the sun was searing. It stabbed at his skin, and he couldn't be sure how much of it was from his condition.

  
Alfyn didn't look to be fairing too much better, he was flushed and sweating heavily. "You holding up alright there, Therion?" He wiped off his brow as Therion fixed him with a weary glare.

  
"Yeah. I'm fine." Gods, he hoped they found a town soon. A town, a tree, heck just a tall rock would do. Something, anything to get out of the sunlight.

  
"You sure? 'cause you look like you're about to keel over."

  
"Yes. I'm sure." He picked up his pace, putting some space between himself and Alfyn. "I think I see something up ahead, come on. We can cool off if there's some shade."

  
Up ahead, extending from the dunes like a beacon, rose crumbling pillars. Ruins, of some sort. Even if there wasn't an interior left, the pillars alone would provide some shade. Some respite from the angry sun. Therion hurried as much as his sore leg and the shifting sands allowed him.

  
Through the glare of the sun and waves of heat, a scene began to piece together between the ruins and nearby cliff face. Figures standing on the cliff, a flash of sunlight reflecting off steel and somebody fell. Therion's pace slowed and Alfyn was able to catch up to him.

  
"Therion? Is something wrong?"

  
"There's a fight up ahead," he spoke before he could think better of it, "somebody fell from the cliff." No, not fell, pushed. A sinking feeling settled in Therion's gut. Before he could suggest that they turn back Alfyn was rushing forward, gripping his satchel close and _damn it all_. Therion ran after him.

  
When they arrived the fight was three to one: two armed guards and a gaudy, sweaty pig of a man against a single dancer in flowing red fabric. The man kept yelling about how she couldn't do this, she **belonged** to him. How he'd beat sense into her, forgive her if she submitted to him. It would be such a shame to have to throw her away too. (Gods, everything about the man was revolting. From the extravagant way he was dressed, to the way he bulged from his clothes, to the sound of his voice.)

  
At the foot of the cliff, staining the sand red, another dancing girl lay. She must have been the one Therion saw fall. The red dancer was holding her own, gracefully stepping out of the path of the guardsmen's swings. Striking with fire in her eyes whenever she could find an opening. But for all her skill the fight was still unbalanced, she dodged the swing of a sword into the blunt force of a shield. The woman stumbled to the ground, a brief moment of vulnerability as she recovered her footing.

  
Alfyn moved in without hesitation, parrying a sword with his ax. Therion cursed to himself and moved in, taking the other guard's attention before he could take a swing at Alfyn. He locked eyes with the woman for a moment before she nodded, expression determined, as she set her sights on her main opponent.

  
By the time he and Alfyn fought off the guards, the woman had the man begging at her feet. Please. If nothing else, if she would just dance for him one more time. (And who did he think he was, making requests like that to a woman with murder in her eyes.) The words died on his tongue as the woman sank her dagger into his neck, a spray of red painting the sand.

  
Therion couldn't stop his eyes from going wide at the site. The voice _snarled_ , wanting, **_needing_** , and he had to turn away to get it to stop. Steeling himself. This was fine, he was still in control. He moved away, taking a seat in the shade of the ruins, taking a quiet moment to reign himself in. The heat of the battle, the smell of blood in the air and the sight of it on the ground, it had him too worked up.

  
Alfyn shot him a worried look before walking over to the woman, introducing himself and offering to tend to her injuries. Her name was Primrose, a dancer by trade. Up until recently she had been in the employ of the man now bleeding out in the sand, Helgenish, who had been buying and selling girls out of Sunshade for years.

  
"I thank both of you for the help." Primrose stated as she stood, Alfyn packing his supplies back into his satchel. "However I must be going."

  
"Where do ya have to go? Not to impose, but, if we went with ya it could make the trip easier for all of us." From his spot in the shade Therion shot Alfyn a tired glare. _No. What were you doing. One travel partner was enough._

  
"Hm, I'm not sure your friend there has the stomach for what I have to do."

  
At that Therion spoke up, insulted. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  
"Oh, nothing," her tone sure made it sound like something, "I mean, you did look like you were going to be sick when I slit the man's throat."

  
"I can handle blood fine," he lied, "it's just this damned sun. It's too hot out here."

  
"Well maybe you should dress for the occasion, you're lucky you don't die of heat stroke in that scarf of yours." Therion groaned in reply, pulling the scarf up more. Yeah, no, that wasn't an option.

  
She raised an eyebrow at him before turning her attention back to Alfyn. "I suppose if we're all going the same way there's no harm in us going together."

 

Primrose was able to lead them to the nearest town, Sunshade, a settlement nestled in the shadow of the local cliffs. Between Primrose and Therion's funds and a discount Alfyn talked out of the owner, they were able to afford two rooms at the inn for the night. It wasn't ideal, but Therion was so tired from being out in the sun that he didn't want to argue.

  
The first thing Therion did upon entering his and Alfyn's shared room was throw off his mantel, flop onto the bed, and sprawl out. It would have been better if he took off his scarf, but it just wasn't worth the risk.

  
Alfyn looked at him with concern as he took the chair. "You holdin' up alright there, buddy?" Therion half growled, half groaned into the pillows. "I could chill some water for ya if you like, how does that sound?" Another growl into the pillow, Alfyn chuckled.

  
A short while later Alfyn was softly nudging his shoulder. "Here, this'll help ya cool off." His voice was gentle, calm, and so patient and why was he bothering? Why wouldn't he just leave Therion alone?

  
The thief gave one last grumble into the pillows before rolling over, sitting up, and taking the cup of water in hand. The glass was cool in his hands, and that alone was a welcome relief. He took small sips, and it did help, but he still felt fatigued from the residual heat from the sun radiating off his skin.

  
"You probably don't wanna hear it, but, Prim had a point. You'd be a lot cooler without that scarf on."

  
Therion frowned, covering his mouth back up before speaking. "You're right, I don't want to hear it."

  
Alfyn rubbed the back of his neck, "heh, sorry. It must be real important to ya, hu?"

  
"Something like that." Therion turned his glass in his hands.

  
"Is there a story behind it?"

  
"Nope." Therion drained the rest of his glass, set it aside, then laid back on the bed.

  
He had hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but Alfyn simply changed the subject. "Ah, alright. How's your leg holdin' up?"

  
Great, this again. "Stop worrying about my leg, it's fine." Actually, right now it itched and he was pretty sure some sand found its way under there.

  
"Well, you should clean it up and put some fresh bandages on it at least." Alfyn opened his satchel, pulling out materials. "And disinfect it too, here." He pulled out a jar of green salve.

  
Therion rolled his eyes, "Alright, fine, I'll take care of it." Materials forced into his arms, he locked himself in the adjoined washroom. How long had Alfyn said it should have taken? Over a week? Dammit this was going to be annoying. He was going to have to remember to play up his injury, the apothecary was already getting suspicious.

 

  
He lied awake that evening until he was sure Alfyn was asleep. The entire day had been exhausting. Between the sun, the fight, the blood- the craving wasn't that strong but it still clawed at him. Agitated. He didn't want another day of walking in the unforgiving sun, not with even the slightest increased sensitivity.

  
He sat up, keeping an eye trained on where Alfyn laid in his bedroll on the floor. He hadn't even argued when Therion had claimed the bed, maybe because he thought he was still injured. Maybe because he was just that much of a selfless idiot. He slipped out of the room without a sound, out into the night. He returned about an hour later, satisfied and a few trinkets richer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therion discovers the desert is not a fun place for a vampire to be.


	4. Secrets

The group set out early the following morning, trying to traverse the remainder of the desert before the sun reached its peak. Golden sands gave way to rocky inclines as they began their ascent into the Highlands. The path twisted and turned up and down the mountainous terrain, and Therion was beginning to regret taking the long way around after all. What was worse was that, even though his leg was healed, he still had to act like he was injured. Walking with a limp in his step slowed the pace of the entire group, but it was necessary. He had to keep the apothecary from pressing, from asking more questions he wasn't prepared to answer.

  
Every now and again Alfyn would stop, distracted by some weed or wildflower. Sometimes just looking, sometimes taking a few sprigs and placing them into his satchel in careful bundles. He would excitedly tell them what the plants were, what uses they had, and Therion wanted to be annoyed because this was just slowing them down more, but the way he lit up as he spoke tugged at Therion in an unfamiliar way.

  
Aside from the typical monster attacks, the following few days on the road were uneventful. Due to their slow pace and the winding paths the group had to make camp, each of them keeping watch in turn. Therion would squirrel himself away to change the bandages on his leg in private, and it was annoying, wasting resources like that. But what else could he do? On the third day they met a warrior on the road, and damn it all if Alfyn didn't invite him along too. Surprisingly the man agreed to come along, and Therion didn't understand why. Olberic was strong, experienced, what did he possibly have to gain from traveling with their group?  
It was another two days before the path winded down, water lapped at the bluffs below and the screech of gulls drifted overhead as they reached the Coastlands. The group's supplies were running low, and thankfully a port town was visible ahead.

  
Therion grinned, a trading town like that was a perfect place to ply his trade. After agreeing to meet up in the tavern that evening the group split to tend to their chores.

  
And everything had been going so well. Therion had just lifted a few plums off an unsuspecting local whose pockets had been, bizarrely, full of them and other fruits. They would make for decent snacks while on the road.

  
"Hey! Stop right there, thief!" The young, energetic, accusing voice grated in his ears as someone gripped and pulled at the chain of the shackle locked around his wrist.

  
Therion shot the girl an annoyed glare. No way, some child had not just caught him in the act. "Didn't your parents teach you it's rude to call people names? Get lost, kid."

  
The girl puffed out her cheeks, making an angry growling sound. "I am NOT a kid!"

  
"Really? Because you sure act like one." He pulled his hand back, and the girl gave the chain another yank in response.

  
"Yeah, well, YOU sure act like a thief, thief!" While she was failing to sound mature to Therion, the girl's shouting was starting to draw attention. He needed to diffuse the situation.

  
"Am I? What, can't a guy talk a walk around here? You've got no proof."

  
The girl growled again, and for a moment Therion thought he had won. A flash of movement, the girl rushed forward and reached into his mantel. "Hey- what the fuck?!"

  
She triumphantly held up a plum. "Aside from the fool's bangle? THIS. I saw you taking that guy's plums!"

  
Therion's mind raced, fucking caught by a child. He scowled, neatly snatching the fruit back from the girl. "I don't see how that proves anything. Yeah, I've got some plums. Doesn't mean I stole them." He could tell he wasn't convincing the girl, but so long as he could convince the crowd he could still get out of this. "Now, unless you have proof that I've actually done anything, let go."

  
People began looking away, going about their own business, and the girl just stared at him. Furious. But what could she do? Therion hadn't taken anything that could easily be traced, he was careful of that. Eventually she relented, releasing the chain.

  
"Fine. You win this time, but I've got my eye on you!"

  
Therion made a hasty retreat. That was an embarrassment. Well, he was leaving town tomorrow, and he didn't have any plans to come back. With any luck he would never see the annoying brat again.

  
Gods, he needed a drink.

 

As it turned out, Therion was not the first one to arrive at the tavern. Primrose was already there, dancing for tips much to the enjoyment of the local sailors. It wasn't every day an exotic dancer stopped by and business was booming. The drunken crowd whistled and cheered as she spun, dim lights glittering from the metal which adorned her outfit.

  
Primrose shot him a smile as he came in, and Therion nodded in acknowledgment before ordering himself a drink and tucking himself in to a corner table as far from the excitement as he could manage. Primrose finished her routine and joined him, ordering a plate of appetizers as Olberic arrived as well.

  
At last Alfyn arrived, but he wasn't alone. A girl followed behind, a too familiar feathered cap on her head and oversized pack bouncing behind her. Therion choked on his ale, it was the same brat from earlier. They locked eyes, both stunned into shock for but a moment.

  
She pointed an accusing finger at him. "You're that thief I caught by the docks!" The girl turned to Alfyn, "Alf, you didn't tell me you were traveling with a thief!"

  
Alfyn looked over, "Who, Therion? Yeah, I guess he's a thief, but he's a pretty good guy once you get to know him." Therion sat there in shock. He knew?! "Anyway- guys this is Tressa. She was interested in traveling with us- heh if you're still interested I guess?"

  
"It's not about if he's a good person or not, he shouldn't be stealing at all! It isn't fair to the hardworking people who earned those items! Or the merchants and tradesmen who put so much time and care into their products!"

  
Therion growled, "Well, if life was fair I wouldn't be here." If life was fair he never would have had to become a thief in the first place. If life was fair he would have died that day in the Clifflands. "Besides, aren't you a bit young to be leaving home, kid?"

  
Tressa glared at him, cheeks puffed and brow furrowed. "I'm not a kid. I'm eighteen. And you better believe I'm still gonna travel with you all, someone has to keep pesky thieves like you in line!"

  
Therion huffed into his drink, "I'd like to see you try."

  
"Well, I already caught you once. You won't get off so easy next time!"

  
Primrose tittered next to him, and Therion sank into his scarf. "Oh, got caught did you? My, Tressa, you must have quite the keen eye."

  
Gods damn it.

  
Therion motioned for the bartender to bring him another drink.

  
"Helps to have a keen eye when you're a future great merchant like me!" Tressa took the seat directly across from Therion as Alfyn sat himself between him and Olberic. (The knight was a man of few words, which Therion was increasingly thankful for.)

 

The night went on, and more food was ordered to be shared among the table. Therion didn't touch any of it, opting instead to lose himself in his mugs with the occasional glare at the annoyance across the table. Tressa would catch him, make a face, then go right back to eating and talking with the others.

  
A light nudge, a wedge of bread held in his face. Therion stared at it, confused, before slowly turning towards the source.

  
"Hey, you should eat somethin'. Ain't good to drink so much on an empty stomach." Alfyn continued to hold the bread in his face, and Therion took it without really thinking. His head felt foggy, and his empty stomach growled, and the bread was actually pretty tempting.

  
Alfyn smiled at him, and Therion felt his face flush. Shit, how much had he had to drink? He quickly looked away, slurring out a small thanks before pulling down his scarf and taking a bite of the bread.

  
Tressa across the table gasped, and that was enough to pierce through the drunken haze and remind him just what he was doing. He pulled up his scarf and shot Tressa another glare.

  
This time she actually looked a little scared. Shit.

  
The table had gone quiet. Alfyn was the first to speak up. "Everything okay there, Tressa?"

  
Therion's pulse pounded in his ears. How could he have been so sloppy? Worse of all his back was to a corner, he was boxed in. If he wanted to run he would have to somehow get through his travel companions first.

  
Her eyes kept flicking back to him, and he braced himself for the accusation. Round two and he was already at a drunken disadvantage.

  
"Yeah, just. Just bit my tongue is all." She stood, pulling leaves from her pocket for her share of the bill. "I'm gonna head home, we're meeting at the town entrance around eight right?"

  
"Yup, that's the plan. We'll see ya then!"

  
Primrose and Olberic offered to see her home safely, leaving Therion alone with Alfyn at the table. Therion shoved the bread under his scarf and took another bite.

Drinking had been a mistake.

 

When Therion went to stand he found himself swaying on his feet. Yeah, he had way too much to drink with absolutely no food in his system. He stumbled back and was met with warmth and gentle hands. "Whoa, easy now. Here, I got ya." Therion's arm was lifted over Alfyn's shoulder, Alfyn's other had moving to hold him steady by his side. A distant voice in his mind said that he should protest, but it felt so warm. So cozy. This close he could hear Alfyn's heartbeat. It called to him. Pulled him in.

  
Therion nuzzled against Alfyn's chest, drawing a chuckle from the apothecary. "Alright, let's get ya back to the inn so you can sleep this off." He began walking, doing his best to keep Therion and himself steady as Therion clung tightly to him the entire way.

  
They made their way back to their shared room, which for once had enough beds for both of them. Alfyn attempted to lay Therion down in the bed nearest the door, only to find the thief still hugging tight to him when he tried to pull away. "Heh, Therion, I don't mind the hug but we should really get some sleep."

  
Therion just held on tighter, nuzzling his face into Alfyn's chest before turning his head upwards, humming and pressing his lips to Alfyn's neck. He could feel Alfyn's pulse quicken, heard the sharp intake of air. The rhythm of Alfyn's pulse was hypnotic, Therion wanted to lose himself in the sound and the beat.

  
And it was so tempting, as he pulled the larger man into the bed with him, to sink his fangs into his neck and just drink his fill. He nibbled lightly, not breaking the skin- just teasing- distantly he could hear another hitched breath, a soft moan. What sort of reaction would he get, with just...just a small bite.

  
"Therion," Alfyn was pushing him away now, and he whined- no, he wanted this moment to last. Just a little longer. He buried his face against Alfyn's chest again, listening to his pounding heart. "Therion you're drunk, you need to-" the thief had stilled against the apothecary's chest, "um. Therion?" Alfyn gave him a light nudge.

  
A gentle snore issued from where Therion had pressed his face to his chest. Had he, fallen asleep? Alfyn sighed and tried to get comfortable, still in wearing his vest and boots. Part of him felt guilty, Therion was usually so solitary by nature he felt like he was taking advantage of him. But he also didn't think he would be able to worm his way out of the thief's surprisingly strong grip without waking the other man up.

  
Alfyn tried his best to calm down, he hadn't really expected Therion to be so...affectionate when drunk. The memory of his lips ghosting over his neck, the gentle grazing of his (sharp?) teeth, lingered in his mind. Alfyn groaned lightly, rubbing a hand down his face.

 

Therion awoke to a terrible pounding pressure in his head. Stupid, he should have known better than to have drank so much with nothing in his system. He grumbled and pressed his face into the warmth below him. He then became acutely aware of the rise and fall of the surface, of the gentle thump of a heartbeat. The soft smell of herbs and...

  
Shit. _Alfyn_. Therion shot up, eyes blown wide with panic. He regretted it a moment later, his head spinning and the light of the room making the pain scream. He closed and rubbed his eyes, trying to bring the world into focus. He blinked, and slowly he realized that thankfully the apothecary didn't have any bite wounds on his neck. There was no smell of blood to indicate any other injuries. (Somewhere in the fog and pain the craving growled, it could hear the heartbeat. Feel the pulse. It was so close, so _close_!) Alfyn stirred, opening his eyes, and Therion realized he was laying there face to face, scarf down. Exposed. He quickly rolled off of Alfyn, pulling up and securing his scarf.

  
"Hey, mornin'." Alfyn sat up, stretching. He kept his voice soft. "Bet you've got quite the hangover after last night. Just sit tight, I can whip somethin' up for that." He gave Therion a light pat on the shoulder before standing up.

  
Last night. Therion groaned and covered his face with his hands. Yesterday had been a shit show, a complete embarrassment. That annoying brat that caught him was going to be traveling with them. Therion had wanted to lose himself in his drink, how much had he had? He remembered faintly that Alfyn had walked him back to the inn.

  
He couldn't really remember what happened after that.

  
Alfyn's voice returned, still soft spoken. "Here, drink up. It'll help."

  
Therion sat up and took the vial, downing it in one swing and grimacing at the taste. He pressed a hand to his temple. "Last night...what, what happened?"

  
"Don't worry, nothing happened. You just got a bit clingy, is all. Wouldn't even let me sleep in my own bed." Alfyn gave a small laugh, it sounded a little nervous. Therion didn't miss the color filling his cheeks.

  
He had a feeling there was a bit more to it than that. "Right...sorry." He handed back the vial, the concoction slowly starting to work. He had a bad feeling that he had come really close to doing something much worse. Flashes in his mind of when he had first come to, the blood on his hands, it could have been so much worse. He didn't want to hurt Alfyn like that.

  
Or. No. He couldn't risk Alfyn figuring out his hidden condition.

  
Alfyn gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Hey, no harm done! But, heh, next time you want a snuggle session all you gotta do is ask." He shot Therion a wink.

  
His face felt too warm. He reached behind, grabbed a pillow, and smacked Alfyn with it. The apothecary held up his arm to block the blow, laughing. "Shut up."

 

The group met up at the town entrance as planned. Alfyn and Therion were the last to arrive as Tressa was excitedly telling Primrose and Olberic about her plans for her journey.

  
"...I can't wait to get to Quarrycrest! There's supposed to be gold in them there hills, always a good market there. Oh, morning Alf!" She waved energetically and Alfyn happily waved back.

  
Quarrycrest, hu? It would be interesting to see just how this young merchant handles herself in the arid badlands of the Cliftlands. There was a lot of mining in that region, which made it profitable for merchants and thieves alike.

  
The group set out, Therion walking with his mock-limp trailing at the back of the group. Tressa fell into step next to him, he looked at her with annoyance. "...what?"

  
She kept her voice hushed. "I don't know what you are, but normal people don't have sharp, pointy teeth."

  
His gut sank, when had she figured that out? How? He cursed the holes in his memory from the previous night. Time to deflect. "Okay, now you're just being mean. I get that you don't like me but spreading rumors like that is a low blow."

  
"I haven't told anyone. Yet. Look I KNOW what I saw." She wasn't going to back off. Great. "So whatever sort of monster you are, just know I've got my eye on you."

  
"I'm shaking in my boots." Therion replied dryly. "Weren't you already keeping an eye on me anyway?"

  
"Yeah, but now I've got an EXTRA eye on you. Try anything and I'll make sure everyone knows it was you."

  
His voice dipped as he shot the merchant a sidelong glare, "Charming. Are you done?"

  
Tressa motioned, pointing at her eyes then at him, before picking up her pace to rejoin the rest of the group.

  
Damn it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear Diary, you won't BELIEVE what I saw today...


	5. Rainy Day

The group paused, checking a signpost in the road. They had made it to the edge of the Flatlands at last. Rocky mesas gave way to rolling, grassy hills dotted with windmills. Therion knew Noblecourt was located in this region, but according to the marks on the signpost it would still take a couple more days of travel at best.

  
It had been about a week, maybe he could stop faking a limp soon.

  
Alfyn was beaming at the signpost. "Oh, hey, we're near Atlasdam! Zeph and I had a friend who moved there when we were kids, Mercedes, Zeph and her used to sit and read together. I wonder if she's still living there?"

  
Tressa piped up, "Well, one way to find out! Why don't we stop by?"

  
"We just restocked our supplies." Therion grumbled. He didn't want them to get sidetracked, not when they were so close to where he needed to go.

  
"You were heading for Noblecourt, correct? Atlasdam won't add too much time to the trip." Primrose added. "It would provide us a chance to build up our funds. Hm, the royal academy is there, I wonder how well scholars tip..."

  
"Please, Therion? We need to take your stitches out soon too, it'd be best to do that in an inn where it's clean." Alfyn gave him a look befitting a sad puppy, Therion huffed and looked away.

  
"...fine. Let's go." He had to admit, Primrose had a point. The more their group grew, the more expensive it was going to become keeping them all fed and geared up. It would also be nice to not have to share an inn room for a change when staying in town.

  
Alfyn walked in pace beside him, clapping him on the back. "Thanks! I'll help ya get the stitches out, okay?"

  
This again. "I can get them myself." He had already taken them out days ago, he still had the loose threads in his pocket.

  
"Alright, but, could you at least maybe let me have a look at it? I don't wanna pry it's just, it was a pretty nasty wound and. I can't help but worry, you know? You're a secretive guy, I'd hate for it to turn out you've been hiding an infection or somethin'."

  
Therion saw Tressa look back at them and he glared at her for eavesdropping. He turned his attention back to Alfyn, and he really did look genuinely concerned. Maybe enough time had passed that it wouldn't be too strange that he had already healed up. But if not, no, it was a risk. What would Alfyn think?

  
What would he think. Speedy healing wasn't exactly a monsterous ability. It was one piece to a larger puzzle in the end, one that admittedly Therion didn't think even he had all the pieces to.

  
"...fine, sure, if that'll get you off my back about it."

  
Alfyn exhaled in relief. "Alright, I'll check up on ya tonight!"

 

The group approached the great drawbridge of Atlasdam just as a misty rain began to fall. They split up once again, much like they had back in Rippletide, only this time Therion found himself with a second, jingly shadow.

  
He stopped, allowing himself an exacerbated sigh. "Are you seriously going to tail me in every town we go to?"

  
"If that's what it takes to make sure you keep those sticky fingers to yourself."

  
Therion huffed and glanced around, the rain was light but it was enough that nobody else was around. He stepped forward, hushing his voice. "I'm kind of surprised you'd want to be alone with me like this. All things considered."

  
Tressa stared him down. "You don't scare me." Liar. He could hear her heart racing.

  
"Really?" He leaned his face closer. "You said for yourself you don't know what I am. Maybe you should be."

  
"Yeah, well, I think you want me to be scared. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

  
"No, I guess I can't. Plan B it is, then." Therion set off at a run before Tressa could ask him just what he meant by that, he heard her shouting after him. He ducked down the first alley he came across, sharply turning corner after corner until he came across a stack of boxes that allowed him to reach the rooftops. Tressa had done her best to follow, and Therion chuckled to himself as she ran past beneath him. Finally, he could look around town in peace.

  
Therion slipped from the rooftop and casually made his way back to the main street. Now, where would he go? The weather was sending people indoors, so it was unlikely he'd find too many people milling about the town square. The tavern was always a good place to pick up rumors, tips for potential hits. There was a distant rumble of thunder as the rain began to fall harder and he picked up his pace. The misting had transformed into a downpour by the time he ducked into the tavern, white hair plastered to his face and clothes dripping. Ah yes, nothing quite as handsome as the drowned rat look.

  
He approached the bar where Primrose was busy chatting with the barkeep. She looked over as he sat down. "It would seem the rain picked up. Hello, Therion."

  
Therion gave Primrose a nod and ordered something to drink- something warm if possible. "Gee, you think? What was your first clue?"

  
"Well either it's raining, or you took a dip in the river." The bartender brought Therion a warm mug of cider and a towel. "Where's Tressa, she was with you wasn't she?"

  
"Hell if I know." He used the towel to sop up enough water from his person to stop dripping all over the floor before taking a grateful sip of the cider.

  
"Oh, Therion. Did you really ditch the poor girl? It's her first time away from home you know."

  
"Well she should have gone with someone else. Besides, how much trouble could she get into? This town well guarded and full of snooty highborn types."

  
Primrose frowned at him, "You never know. I had thought my home was safe too when I was a child, for much the same reason. My father ran the guard and for a time Nobelcourt was one of the safest towns in the realm."

  
Therion went quiet, considering. "...just how, exactly, does the daughter of a noble house wind up dancing for drunks in the desert?"

  
"Revenge." Primrose said simply, looking away with a distant expression. "Trying to find the men who betrayed and murdered my father."

  
Oh. He took another sip of cider as the silence stretched on. "I take it the two of you were close?" His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

  
Primrose nodded. "We were, yes. He was a good man."

  
"Do you think it's...safe, for you to go back?"

  
She smiled a little at that. "Why, I didn't realize you cared, Therion." Who said he did. He just didn't want to run into unexpected trouble, that's all. "To answer your question, I don't know. But I do know that I am...not quite ready to face what waits there for me. Not yet."

  
Therion gave a slow nod. "That's understandable." He wouldn't want to go back to his hometown either. Though, that was mostly because Riverford was a shit hole.

  
"What of you? Just how does a talented young man turn to a life of crime?"

  
It had been necessity, really. Lost his parents to the Great Pestilence, nobody could afford to take him in so he lived on the streets. He had to steal if he didn't want to starve. Eventually he got caught, sent to the gaol. Darius, his cell mate, was the first person to see any potential in him, praise him for his skills. He couldn't help but latch on to that.

  
"Let's just say I didn't exactly have a happy childhood."

  
Primrose nodded, giving him a light pat on the shoulder. "Well, I'll leave you to your drink. Try not to get flat out drunk this time." She stood and walked away, likely to get ready for her performance. Therion grumbled into his mug. Like he planned to make that mistake again.

 

About an hour passed and Therion had yet to pick up anything interesting from the surrounding conversations. Comments about the weather, talk about personal lives, a few students lamenting over an upcoming exam. Not many people came in, likely staying at home due to the weather. The heavy pounding on the roof did eventually soften to a patter, Therion could only hope it wouldn't pick up again by the time the group went to the inn that evening. His hair fluffed out as it dried, and though he tried to smooth it down with his hands it kept poofing up again.

  
There was a chime as the tavern door opened, and a new conversation joined the clamor. A feeling of dread settled in his gut as he recognized the telltale almost screeching of one of the voices.

  
"I can't believe it, all that work and they're kicking you out? With no _PROOF_?"

  
The second voice was smooth, well practiced in tone. "I fear the rumors alone are damaging in their own right, unfortunately. It is alright, this situation poses a great opportunity for myself. I have always wanted to travel, and I can look into the rare tome missing from the library as well."

  
Therion peeked back over his shoulder. Tressa was chatting with a handsome, dark haired man in intricate scholarly robes. The two of them looked a little roughed up, as though they had been in a fight. The faint scent of blood hit him, Tressa and the man likely had a few scrapes. He glanced over at Primrose, who shot him a _look_ before returning to her routine.

  
He heard the jingling of Tressa's pack approach behind him. "Therion? Have you been in the pub this entire time?! I looked all over for you, you jerk!" She lightly hit him in the shoulder, not really trying to hurt him. "How the heck did you move so fast anyway? Aren't you supposed to be injured?"

  
"Well, I guess I just wanted to get away from you that badly." Tressa grumbled, and he half expected her to smack him again.

  
The scholar took a seat beside Therion, looking at him curiously. "Is this one of your travel companions you mentioned? Therion, was it?" He extended a hand. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Cyrus Albright, Professor of History at the royal academy..." good gods the man just wouldn't stop talking, he went on to explain how Tressa had aided him in catching someone who had been stealing rare books from the library at which point Therion tuned him out. He ignored Cyrus' extended hand, turning slowly to fix a very tired glare at Tressa.

  
"...it was a treat to see her natural affinity for wind magic, I dare say that young Tressa has the potential of becoming a mage. But, ah, I digress." Cyrus finally realized Therion wasn't paying attention to what he had been saying. Therion breathed out a sigh of relief.

  
Tressa hopped up on the free seat beside Therion, grinning devilishly. "Turns out the Prof has a friend in Quarrycrest he needs to go see!" Oh no. _Please_ no. "So I thought, well, we're going to the same town and all. Why not invite him along! Plus he's like, suuuper good at magic! Monsters won't stand a chance against us now!"

  
Therion groaned and dropped his head to the bar.

  
"I am well practiced in the basic elemental trinity- fire, ice, and lightning magic. I will be the first to admit I still have much to learn on the subject, especially on the other elements. I dare say I stand to learn much from observing Tressa's wind magic, for one example. Might I ask what sort of mage you are, Therion?"

  
What sort of...what? Therion turned his head, still against the bar, to stare at the scholar. "What? I'm not a mage." He could cast a small fire spell, but it wasn't anything to write home about.

  
"Ah, my apologies, I just couldn't help but notice you give off a... peculiar magical signature. It is odd, it reminds me slightly of the sort given off by certain kinds of magical constructs."

  
Therion's eyes went wide, well this was new information.

  
"Maybe he is just a magical whatsit." Tressa chimed in, prodding at him. That wasn't helping.

  
He swatted Tressa's hand away. "Very funny, can't you two go and bother someone else?"

  
"That is one possibility, yes. However magical constructs do not have minds of their own, they are programmed with a set of instructions to follow. It is quite curious, even after their masters are long gone the constructs will remain and continue to follow through on their programming. It makes researching ancient ruins quite the hassle as ancient sentries will fight off scholars thinking them invaders."

  
Therion stood, digging out a few leaves for his drink and dropping them on the counter before turning to leave. He heard Tressa call after him and picked up his pace, not even bothering to fake his limp as he rushed back out into the rain.

 

Eventually the rain stopped, clouds parting allowing the sun to start drying the damp ground. People began venturing out of their homes, running errands before night could fall. The sun felt too warm, too bright. Annoying, but maybe he could push it a few more days. Therion huddled in the shadow of an alley, taking a moment to enjoy an apple he had swiped from a produce stall.

  
Magical constructs, he had encountered those before. Golems made of metal and glass, animated by magic. They were a common enough form of security used by those wealthy enough to afford them.

  
Is that what that mage had tried to do to him? Turn him into some sort of servant? But, Therion could still think and act for himself. The idea that he could have lost his mind was... unsettling, to say the least. Or maybe his mind would have still been intact, forced to witness whatever orders he had to follow with no control. He couldn't be sure which option was worse. (The voice, the craving, whispered. Just how much control did he really still have?)

  
Therion watched as the sky dimmed, pinks and purples slowly fading to black as starts twinkled into view. The rest of the party was likely meeting for dinner about now. He ventured out onto the street, heading instead for the inn. He'd had enough of people for one day. Right now he just wanted to lie down somewhere quiet and sleep.

  
Unfortunately the group did not have enough funds to allow him his own room. They were able to get two rooms, so he would be sharing a room with both Alfyn and Olberic. He woke up as the two men entered the room, listening to the two of them move about as they got ready for bed.

  
A warm hand landed on his shoulder, giving him a light nudge. "Therion, hey, sorry buddy but we need to check your injury, remember?"

  
Therion groaned, sitting up. That's right, he had promised to let Alfyn check on him that morning hadn't he? "Fine, hang on." He tossed back the blanket and rolled up his pant leg, exposing the bandages which Therion set to unwrapping.

  
"Heard somethin' interestin' at supper tonight from Tressa." Therion paused, no, what had that brat told everyone? "Said you were runnin' around earlier."

  
"Hmph, tattletale. She was being annoying and I wanted to be alone."

  
"Heh, fair enough I guess. Prim's pretty mad you ditched her though, the good news is she wasn't hurt too bad."

  
The space the injury was in was exposed. There was a thin, faint scar but it was nothing compared to what it would have been if Alfyn hadn't stitched it closed in the first place. Therion supposed he should be thankful for that, he had enough large, ugly scars as is. Some from the trouble he got into in his youth, many from the day he had fallen.

  
Alfyn's hand traced the line of the scar, a confused look on his face. Shit, this was a bad idea.

  
"Shucks, looks like you're all healed up. You're a pretty fast healer, aren't ya?"

  
Therion shoved his pant leg back down. "Told you I would be fine, you don't have to worry about me."

  
"Heh, I guess not." Alfyn took a seat on the edge of the bed. "You weren't at dinner, so I thought I'd fill ya in, Prim ain't planin' on joinin' us to Noblecourt."

  
Therion nodded, "yeah, she mentioned that to me earlier." (Alfyn's heartbeat felt loud in his ears, the voice whispered. Closer, get _closer_.)

  
"Oh, did she? Well, her and Olberic are gonna head out for Victor's Hollow tomorrow. The plan is we all meet up back in Quarrycrest."

  
"Alright, good to know." A pause. "What about Tressa and Professor Windbag?"

  
Alfyn chuckled, "Aw, Therion, Cyrus isn't that bad. They wanted to stick with us."

  
"Fine, but I have a job to do when we reach Noblecourt. I don't need any of you getting in the way of that." He shifted, moving a little closer to Alfyn.

  
"Yeah? What sort of job do you have t' do?"

  
Therion held up his shackled wrist, the chain jingling. "Getting this thing off, which means fetching some stolen family heirlooms."

  
Alfyn leaned over, looking at the bangle. "You're a master thief, right? Why not just pick the lock?"

  
"If I tried that, it'd break the lock and I'd never get the thing off." He lowered his hand. "Besides, I already agreed to do the job."

  
"Oh, yeah that makes sense. So the thing you have t' get is in Noblecourt?"

  
"One of them." Therion gave Alfyn a light push, "alright, enough talk. I want to get some sleep tonight."

  
Alfyn chuckled, leaning against his hands. "Aw, do you need me to keep ya warm again?"

  
Therion grumbled, giving Alfyn another light push. The teasing was agitating the voice, it wanted him to give in. Let the apothecary get close. To tuck in close to his heartbeat, to drink in his pulse and his blood. "C-cut it out." His nerves came out in his voice as he fought to keep himself under control.

  
From the other side of the room Olberic gave a tired sigh. "Alfyn. Therion. It is late, go to bed. Both of you."

  
That put a quick end to Alfyn's teasing as the apothecary quickly got up, apologized, and got ready for bed. Therion huffed, laying back down and burying himself in the blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therion: "How much trouble can she get into?"
> 
> *scene cuts to Tressa and Cyrus mid battle, screaming and swarmed by bats*


	6. Vampire

Sleep did not come easy to Therion that night. His dreams, nightmares really, shifted from one unpleasant scenario to the next. Images of bodies ripped open, blood flowing like rivers from their wounds. Sometimes strangers, worse was when they took on the faces of people he knew. Alfyn, Primrose, Tressa, their throats torn and with gaping holes in their chests. Red covered his hands and he knew the carnage was his doing. ( _No, gods no. He wasn't a monster, he wasn't-_ ) The scene shifted, people looking at him. Horrified. Shouting. They chased him down, and he was in the desert. The sun shone blindingly bright and his skin burned like he was on fire. He wanted to scream, but no sound came.

 

Therion awoke with a start, faint morning light just starting to brighten the sky outside the window. Dawn, too early to be awake. He stared at the ceiling as the memory of his dream clung to his thoughts. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, blood-filled nightmares had often haunted him ever since the day he had fallen. A product of the craving combined with his own paranoia. This one had been worse than usual though, the images of his travel companions ripped apart made him feel truly sick. He reminded himself that they were fine, it was just a dream. Olberic and Alfyn were both sleeping soundly, uninjured, in the room with him.

  
He wound up lying awake as the sun gradually rose. He was still tired, but part of him was scared that falling back to sleep would return him to the nightmares. Olberic was the next to get up, the man was an early riser by routine and was often the first up when on the road. Therion gave him a small nod when he saw he was awake.

  
Olberic hefted his sword and headed for the door. "You are awake early today."

  
Therion shrugged, "yeah. Guess so."

  
"I was going to get in some training before breakfast, perhaps you would like to join?"

  
Might as well. It would be a good distraction if nothing else. "Sure, why not."

  
He followed Olberic out to the town square, open and empty this early in the morning. The former knight ran him through the motions, stopping occasionally to correct his footing or stance. Therion had to admit the man was both skilled and a good teacher. It might be good to make a habit of joining Olberic in the mornings, after they meet back up. Knowing proper swordplay would give Therion an upper hand in fights, after all.

  
A small crowd ended up gathering, watching their practice. Therion spotted the scholar from yesterday out the corner of his eye, the man was watching with fascination. Well, so long as he kept quiet. The eyes on him made him nervous but he did his best to focus on the exercises.

 

Once the others had woken up, breakfast was shared at the tavern. Tressa watched him like a hawk as he snuck bites of food under his scarf, he glared back at her. Was she trying to catch him again? The professor was rambling again, this time directed at Olberic. _Sir_ Olberic, former knight of the kingdom of Hornburg. The history of which _just happened_ to be Cyrus' area of expertise. And Therion had thought he was unlucky yesterday.

  
At least Olberic wouldn't have to put up with Cyrus' prying, personal questions all day. He and Primrose split off when they left Atlasdam as the rest of them headed towards Noblecourt. Therion tried his best to keep his distance from the chatty mage. The guy had noticed something off, something strange, about him right away. Was that going to be the case with any mage he came across?

  
Alfyn walked in pace with him, Cyrus and Tressa a short distance behind. "You feeling alright there, Ther? Ya look kinda tired."

  
"I'm fine." He likely didn't look it, slouched and squinting in the sun. The discomfort wasn't nearly as bad as what it was in the desert, but he was starting to regret putting off feeding until he reached Noblecourt. "You find that lady you wanted to talk to in Atlasdam?"

  
"Mercedes? I did, actually!" Alfyn grinned brightly. "Turns out she's working at the royal archive- that big fancy library! She was happy to hear about what's been goin' on in Clearbrook since she left. Asked a lotta questions about how Zeph and Nina have been in particular- I'll have to let them know she says hi if we ever stop in at Clearbrook again."

  
"Yeah? Must not have been a long conversation."

  
"Heh, it wasn't- she had to go back to work and all." He gave Therion a nudge, "and yeah, I guess life in a sleepy village don't sound to exciteing to a master thief. I bet you've got more exciteing adventures than I could shake a stick at!"

  
Therion pushed him back. "Yeah, plenty of incriminating stories. There's a reason I don't go around bragging about my own exploits."

  
"Aw, you can't even tell us one story?"

  
"Not unless you want to become an accomplice to the crime, no."

  
Alfyn laughed, "That's how it works, hu?"

  
"If you know I was the criminal and don't report me, yeah, it is." He looked Alfyn over. "And honestly? I don't think you'd last long in prison. You're big and strong, sure, but you're so soft-hearted the other prisoners would eat you alive."

  
"Yeah? And I take it that includes you?"

  
Therion smirked. "I would be long gone by the end of day one."

  
"Wait, and leave me behind? Harsh." Alfyn pushed him again at that, just on the edge of being rough.

  
"You'd be the reason we were in that mess to begin with, so yeah." He pushed the apothecary back, which led to a back and forth that ended with Alfyn nearly pushing him over before running ahead, laughing the entire way. Therion, caught up in the moment, ran after him. He caught up easily, tackling Alfyn sending them both, still laughing, to the ground.

  
And damn it all if he wasn't tempted to bite him, right then and there. There was a sort of thrill in chasing him down, hearing his heart racing. The faint smell of blood.

  
Blood? Therion moved off of Alfyn, sitting next to him in the grass. "Hey, you okay?" Alfyn was still shaking with laughter, so it didn't seem like anything too urgent.

  
"Ah, ah yeah." Alfyn sat up, grinning wide and face flush with a trickle of red going down his face from a small cut on his forehead.

  
Therion's eyes went wide and he looked away. "Y-you're bleeding."

  
"I am?" Alfyn reached up, finding the cut. "Oh, would you look at that. Must 'ave hit a rock on the way down."

  
Cyrus and Tressa caught up as Alfyn dug through his satchel. Tressa looked at Alfyn, saw the blood, then turned to Therion.

  
"Alfyn, you're bleeding! What did you do?!"

  
Therion glared at her. "Nothing! It was an accident."

  
"It's alright, Tress." Alfyn waved his free hand dismissively as he pressed a bundle of cloth to his cut. "We just got a lil carried away goofin' off. It happens."

  
Cyrus looked between Therion and Alfyn multiple times as the apothecary waited for his cut to stop bleeding. "Therion, are you afraid of the sight of blood?"

  
He shifted his glare to the professor. "No. Fuck off." He felt Alfyn's hand on his shoulder and pulled his scarf up more.

  
"Hey, it's okay. Lots of folks don't do well at the sight of blood. It's nothin' to be ashamed of."

  
Therion grumbled. He really, really wanted to argue. This wasn't something he wanted to be known for. Alfyn patted his shoulder, stood up, and offered him a hand up. Therion took it, allowing him to be pulled to his feet. He kept his face turned away, he didn't want to look at the wound.

 

He kept to himself after that, paying attention to the road and their surroundings as Alfyn stopped to gather plants and Cyrus and Tressa chatted behind them. He shouldn't have let himself get distracted in the first place. The roads in the Flatlands were well traveled but the risk of monster attacks was still present. And they did run into monsters on several occasions. As soft and frail as the professor looked, his spells were absolutely devastating. He could wipe out entire groups of monsters with a single incantation- the rest of them just had to keep the monsters distracted long enough for him to cast. And make sure they didn't get caught in the crossfire. Cyrus was also rather knowledgeable about the various beasts they encountered, and would offer suggestions as to what spells and weapons would best break through their enemies' defenses.

  
Night began to fall and the group stopped to make camp. Alfyn left to fish at a nearby creek, leaving Therion with Cyrus and Tressa at their campsite. Therion was working to set up a space for a fire while Tressa and Cyrus tried to figure out how to set up the tent Cyrus had brought along.

  
Cyrus and Tressa began chatting as Therion busied himself sorting the gathered sticks and branches by size. Tressa hushed her voice, but probably didn't realize Therion could still hear her anyway.

  
"Say, Cyrus, you know a lot about monsters and stuff, right?"

  
"I have read up on them, yes, but I would not call myself an expert on the matter." Cyrus replied. "Hrm, could you pass me the pole on your right?"

  
"Here ya go. I was wondering, are there any monsters that look like people?"

  
"Like people? Well, there are the various kinds of beastmen prevalent across the country. They live in tribal communities-"

  
"Yeah, no, but, are there any that look human?"

  
There was a pause, silence filled by the sound of rustling fabric as Cyrus tried to fit pieces together. "Monsters that look human? Well, there are accounts of humans being turned into monsters. Necromancers will use the bodies of the deceased to create skeletal sentries or servants."

  
"Yeah but those look like walking bones."

  
"Hm, well, there are some other accounts. Zombies, for one, though a zombie is indiscernible from a skeleton once enough time passes, as only the bones seem to really survive without decaying. I've also read about another kind of necromatic automation- vampires. Unlike a zombie they don't decay, however they have to be sustained on a diet of human blood. Though they are more resilient, even able to recover quickly from injuries, they quickly burn up in sunlight or when exposed to light magic." Therion paused, he felt cold. "It's actually quite fascinating, but few specimens have actually been found. Since they have to be sustained on human blood they don't generally last into the modern day, sadly. Of course, they are still undead automatons. Mindless, man-made servants. If you were curious about monsters which exist in nature, who think and act for themselves, then things get more complicated."

  
Cyrus began to babble on about stories of demigods and fairies, but Therion wasn't really listening anymore. Vampire. That's what he was? But Cyrus had said they were mindless, like other kinds of magical sentries. Therion shook the swirling questions from his head and tried to focus on getting the fire going. He wasn't sure what to make of it. He didn't want to think about it.

 

That night Therion took first watch, surveying the wilderness as the fire crackled at his back. Cyrus and Alfyn fell asleep right away, but Tressa stayed up writing in her journal. Eventually the scratching of her quill stopped and Therion heard footsteps approach behind him.

  
He turned to face her. "What do you want now?"

  
Tressa huffed, plopping down next to him. "Oh, nothing. Just wanted to say you better not be planning on spiriting Alfyn away to some fairy realm or whatever. I'm onto you."

  
Therion stared. Was she being serious right now? "I...won't?"

  
"You better not! He's got too much he wants to do to just vanish for like, a hundred years or something. Or to get gobbled up. Or become your pet or whatever it is you're planning."

  
"..." Therion cradled his face in his hands. He wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, she was actually being serious. "You, really don't need to worry about any of that. Wait." He looked back up and over at her, not bothering to move his scarf back into place. She already knew about the teeth, anyway. "Why are you only worried about Alfyn? You and Cyrus are far more annoying."

  
"Duh, why would you kidnap someone you don't like? You and Alfyn are all over each other."

  
"I-" He looked back out into the dark, rolling hills. "I don't know what you're talking about. And I'm not planning on kidnapping anyone."

  
Tressa giggled. "You're blushing! You liiiike him, don't you!"

  
Therion pulled his scarf back over his face. "Just, just go to bed. We don't need you falling asleep during your watch." It wasn't like that, anyway. He couldn't let it be like that. Close contact drove the craving crazy, he couldn't be sure he wouldn't eventually lose control. And that would be the end of it, there wouldn't be any way to explain just why, exactly, he had bitten and was drinking his friend's blood. And what would they do to him then?

  
His eyes wandered to where Cyrus slept, curled up next to the misshapen lump that had been his tent. (Alfyn had tripped onto it when he came back to camp, much to Cyrus and Tressa's dismay.) He could probably incinerate Therion with a wave of his hand, if he wanted to. Would he, if he knew Therion was a bloodthirsty monster? Would the others?

  
Questions buzzed through his mind all through his watch and kept him awake even once he switched places with Cyrus. He was only snapped out of it when the scholar started talking.

  
"Therion? Are you still awake?"

  
He sat up, giving Cyrus a pointed look. "No. Why are you bothering me?"

  
"Well, I was talking with Tressa earlier, and it is quite strange but she seems convinced that you aren't fully human."

  
"You don't say." Therion shifted, ready to spring up at a moment's notice. "And, what, you believe her?"

  
Cyrus considered for a moment. "I would not say that there is enough evidence to indicate so. It's not uncommon for those who dabble heavily in certain magical fields to undergo physical changes, or for their children to inherit unusual traits. Why, a good example is my school's very own Headmaster Yvon. Both of his parents were well practiced mages, and he was born with red eyes."

  
Therion relaxed a little at that. He hadn't been figured out completely, yet. "Don't suppose you could convince Tressa to leave me alone, then?"

  
"I could try, yes. Just one more question. Do you really have fangs?"

  
"Seriously?" Therion fought back the panic, he could still talk his way out of this. "No. Now are you going to let me sleep, or are you gonna bug me with more stupid questions?"

  
"Ah, my appologies. Good night, Therion."

 

They set out early the next morning, Noblecourt coming into view around midday. Therion stopped the group outside the town gates.

  
"Alright, listen up. I have a job to do, and that means I can't have any of you sticking your noses in my business." He glared at Tressa as he said this, who grumbled and crossed her arms. "If all goes according to plan I'll meet back up with you all by sundown."

  
"And if you don't show up we check the gaol, right?" Tressa added.

  
"If I don't show up, assume I'm already out of town on the run. Or dead." The others looked concerned at that. "It shouldn't come to that, I know what I'm doing."

  
Cyrus and Tressa went ahead, making their way towards the bustling market. Alfyn hung back, and Therion could hear his heart beating faster. He looked nervous too.

  
"So, guess you got a busy day ahead of ya?"

  
Therion shrugged. "Guess so."

  
"What do you say we meet at the tavern when you're done? Share some drinks, celebrate a little?"

  
He looked over at the apothecary, considering. It was tempting. Alfyn looked so hopeful, too. "Yeah, alright. I'll see you there. First round's on you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therion finds out what he is. Cyrus and Tressa? Not so much.


	7. The Ruby Dragonstone

Tracking down the possible location of the ruby dragonstone was surprisingly easy. Rumors drifted among the townspeople about a crazy mage holed up in an old manse at the edge of town, wrapped up in his study of a strange red stone. The locals dared not go near it, and upon investigation the place was heavily guarded. Sneaking in was not a viable option, if Therion was going to get inside he was going to need more information.

  
A quick visit to the tavern and a few conversations later, he found a lead. Apparently the mage at one point had a researched partner, a man by the name Barham. It seemed the two had split, but Barham still lived in town. His residence was far less impressive than the manse at the edge of town. The building was old and worn, with cracks in the walls and holes in the roof.

  
Luckily, Barham was willing to help him get into the manse. Apparently his former partner, Orlick, had crossed the line from curiosity to obsession. Missing meals and sleep, locking himself in his lab all hours of the day just to research that stone. It had caused a rift in their relationship. Barham was worried about him, Orlick- he said- was like a brother to him.

  
Therion could understand that. He'd once had someone he thought of as a brother, too. For a time.

  
All that was needed to get into the manse was a password. Annoyingly, he wouldn't tell Therion the password until he fetched a few things for him. Fine. Whatever. Pile on the fetch-quests, it wasn't like he had anything better to do with his time. The materials, it turned out, were for his benefit in the end- a special key needed for getting into Orlick's lab.

  
Barham pressed the crystalline key into Therion's palm. "The password is 'The Truth of all Things'. Be careful, Orlick got violent when I tried to remove the stone from his possession myself."

  
Therion slid the key into one of his many hidden pockets. "I'll keep my guard up." He turned to leave.

  
"Best that you do, you wouldn't want to become his next subject of study either." Therion paused in the doorway. The stone couldn't have been squirreled away by some aristocrat for bragging rights or in the hoard of some other thief or pirate. No, it had to be in the possession of a mage. Mages who apparently found Therion a strange curiosity. He looked back, but Barham had already turned away from him, focused back on his lab equipment.

 

After that getting in was as easy as posing as a courier to talk his way past the guards. The password worked like a charm, he was in. The interior was dusty and ill-kept, large dust-laden cobwebs hanging from the ceiling and doorways. The lab was more a storage space than anything else, filled with boxes and clutter. Papers were strewn on the floor, and every flat surface shelved some sort of equipment.

  
At the center of the lab, alone on the only uncluttered table, sat a dazzling egg-shaped gemstone. It was the clearest, most brilliant red Therion had ever seen. There wasn't a person in sight, so he stepped right up to inspect the stone more closely. So, this was the ruby dragonstone? It was pretty. A large, high-quality gemstone for sure. Didn't really explain why the mage was so obsessed with it.

  
There was the sound of pounding footsteps from the hall and Therion snatched up the stone. Sounded like it was time to go. He turned to leave as the two guards from the entrance, plus a third man in fancy dress, blocked the door.

  
"That's quite far enough, thief." The man held up a hand, magic shimmering around his fingers.

  
Therion took a step back. The main exit was blocked and there was no other way out of the room. Trapped. "You must be Orlick. It's a pleasure, but I really should be going."

  
"I think not!" The spell left his hand and Therion braced himself, but nothing seemed to happen. The sound of clattering metal came up from behind him, just enough warning for Therion to jump aside as a large construct, a massive golem made of metal plates, swung an ax down where he had been standing.

  
Right. Guess he wasn't getting out of this without a fight. Therion unsheathed his sword. He did his best to keep an eye on his position as he fought back against the construct, he couldn't afford to get backed into a corner here. The guards rushed into the room, flanking him, and Therion cursed under his breath. His eyes flicked to the doorway, Orlick was still there but surely he could push his way past the mage.

  
Therion lept back from another downswing of the construct's ax, only to shout as a bolt of energy struck him. It stabbed like a knife to his core and the guards took hold of his arms. He tried to pull free, pausing when he spotted the construct winding up for another swing.

  
He braced himself for the pain of the impact, but it didn't come. "That's enough!" The construct stopped, lowered its ax, and stood aside. Orlick marched forward and began rummaging through Therion's mantel. "Barham put you up to this, didn't he? Stupid Barham, interfering in my resear- _eugh_. What is this?" He pulled out a handful of loose, bloodstained thread and dropped them to the floor in disgust. Right, the stitches. He had forgotten about those.

  
Therion tugged against the hold the guards had on his arms again, but no luck. "Who's to say he did? I just know the stone's rightful owners wanted it back."

  
Orlick grumbled. "That stone being nothing but a display piece for some noble house is a waste. It is a magical artifact which requires careful study and research. Research that only _I_ can do!" He pulled out an apple and threw it to the floor in frustration.

  
"That's nice, I don't really care." The mage, at last, pulled out the stone. He marched back and carefully replaced it on its pedestal before turning back to Therion. Alright, this was the part where he got dragged off to the local gaol.

  
Orlick marched back over, scrutinizing him. It made Therion's skin crawl. "I dare say, it might not be the only thing requiring research here..." He reached up and tugged back Therion's scarf, which had come loose during the fight.

  
Panic set his heart racing, pounding loud in his ears. He clamped his mouth shut and stared the mage down, but it was already too late, wasn't it?

  
"There's no mistaking that magical signature. I've never heard of a construct with such advanced problem solving functions, or the ability to speak." He motioned for the guards to follow him as began clearing off one of the cluttered tables. "Get it restrained, I want to run a few tests."

 

Alfyn sat at the bar, alone, staring worryingly down into his drink. It was well past sundown, and Therion hadn't shown up yet. The tavern door opened and he spun around expectantly, face falling when he saw it was only Cyrus and Tressa. He gave them a small wave, then turned back to his drink.

  
"Oh, hey guys." The two took up the seats next to him "How did everything go at the market?"

  
"Went pretty well, the merchants around here sell some interesting stuff. One guy had a bunch of water from the desert! Apparently the sand filters it or something? Crazy expensive." Tressa looked around. "Say, where's Therion? Wasn't he supposed to be back by now?"

  
Alfyn looked back down at his glass. "I...don't know. He hasn't been by. He was gonna meet me here at sundown, but..."

  
"If I may, I saw him stopping by a residence in town earlier." Cyrus supplied. "That may be a good place to start, if we wish to track him down."

  
Alfyn considered that. Therion had been pretty insistent on them not getting involved in his business. At the same time, the situation made him uneasy. What if something had gone wrong and he was hurt somewhere, alone and in need of help? "I think that sounds like a good idea, let's go!" He got up, started to walk away, then rushed back to toss a crumpled handful of leaves on the counter.

 

Barham gave the trio a very tired look as he opened the door. "What's this about? Do you three have any idea what time it is?"

  
"Apologies for the intrusion, my good man. You see our travel companion is missing, and I believe I saw him stop by here earlier." Barham stared at Cyrus, sighed, and motioned for the three of them to come inside.

  
"The man you're looking for. White hair, dark skin, keeps his face covered in a purple scarf?"

  
Alfyn perked up, "Yeah, that's him! Do you know where he is?"

  
"Maybe. I know he was heading for the manse at the edge of town. If he hasn't come back from there..." His eyes fell on Cyrus. "You're a mage, you noticed your companion's strange aura, yes?"

  
Alfyn quirked an eyebrow. "Strange aura?"

  
Cyrus nodded, "Yes, Therion gives off a rather unique magical signature. It's a kind usually found on objects animated by magic."

  
Barham nodded. "Orlick used to specialize in the creation and study of magical constructs. Before he found that damned stone. And I fear that his obsession has left him somewhat cracked. Your friend may well be in trouble." He moved to the lab equipment at the back of the room, pouring liquid and lighting a burner. "I might have just enough material left over from earlier, if you plan to go after him..."

 

Therion was tired. He stared up at the ceiling from the table he had been tied down to, rough ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles. He had already rubbed his skin raw in his attempts to pull himself free. Cold air nipped at his exposed skin, he had been stripped of everything but his pants, his clothing strewn on the floor with the rest of the displaced clutter. Orlick had said something about needing more research materials and left hours ago, leaving him alone in the lab. To make matters worse, the damage he had sustained earlier from the magic attack had caused the voice to grow stronger. It was just as angry being tied down as Therion was. Well what do you know, they were on the same page for once. (He, very strongly, wanted to _rip out_ Orlick's fat neck.)

  
He strained to look as he heard the lab door open, fully expecting to see the mage returning. Instead he spotted a familiar plumed hat.

  
" _Tressa?!_ " Good gods he didn't think he'd ever actually be happy to see the annoying merchant. Tressa shushed him, looking back before slipping inside and closing the door. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "What are you doing here? Where are the others?"

  
She ran up and began struggling with the knots of rope. "Cyrus and Alfyn have Orlick and his guards distracted." She grumbled in frustration. "Darnit, can't you just use your fairy magic to get out of this?"

  
"I'm not a gods damned fairy." He motioned with his head to the floor. "My dagger should be here somewhere, use it to cut the ropes. And..." Tressa grabbed his dagger and started by cutting the ropes on his ankles. "Once I'm free I. I need you to keep away from me."

  
He was shaking, he could hear Tressa's heart racing from adrenaline. The craving desperately wanted to pounce, furious at the physical restraint of the ropes and the mental restraint of Therion trying, desperately, to stay in control.

  
"Why? Are you gonna be sick? You don't look so good." His ankles were freed and she started sawing at the ropes on his wrists.

  
"Just. Just keep your distance."

  
Tressa cut the rope on his wrists and quickly moved away, still holding his dagger. Therion rolled off the table and snatched up his clothing, throwing the garments back on before rushing over and grabbing the stone.

  
"Are you okay? Did Orlick do something to you?"

  
He headed for the door and motioned for Tressa to follow. "No, don't wanna know what the bastard was planning. I'm not okay but I can fix that once we get the hell out of here."

  
They rejoined with Alfyn and Cyrus on the way out, the four of them fleeing from Noblecourt under the cover of night. Only when they were sure they had not been followed did the group stop running, collapsing into the grass.

  
Alfyn started laughing. "Oh man, talk about a rush! Are all your heists like that, Therion?"

  
The thief huffed, falling back and staring up at the stars. "Normally I'm able to pull them off solo." A pause, the sounds of his friends' heartbeats echoed around him. "...you guys came looking for me."

  
"Of course we did!" Alfyn laid in the grass next to him. "We were all real worried when it got dark and you weren't back yet."

  
Tressa started to say something when Therion shot up, walking back in the direction of town. "I have one more thing I have to do. Shouldn't take more than an hour."

  
"H-hey, wait a minute!" Alfyn started to get up to follow. "We just got you back-"

  
"Don't worry, I plan to stay far away from any more mages." With that he slunk into the shadows, quickly sneaking back into town.

 

True to his word he returned soon enough, Alfyn was sitting by a makeshift fire when he got back. He took a seat beside him, watching the flames flicker.

  
"Hey, good to see you're back. What did you have to do, anyway?"

  
Therion adjusted his scarf, the taste of fresh blood still lingered in his mouth. "Can't say."

  
Alfyn gave a small laugh and added a branch to the fire. "What, you still can't tell me? We're kinda partners in crime now, ain't we?"

  
"Please, I was the only one who did any thieving. But...thanks. For coming for me." He felt Alfyn's arm then, reaching across his shoulders and pulling him into a sideways hug. He grumbled a little before settling into the warmth. It was...nice. Comforting. And since he had just fed the voice was leaving him alone. He still found himself acutely aware of the rhythm of Alfyn's heartbeat, but with the craving calmed the sound was soothing.

  
"I'm glad you're okay." He gave one last light squeeze before letting him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know what I'm also a sucker for? Coming up with what-if scenarios for losing big boss fights.


	8. Keeping Warm

"Fascinating, truly stunning." Cyrus was holding the ruby dragonstone up to the sunlight. Light shone brilliantly within the stone, showcasing its amazingly uniform deep red hue. "You said Orlick had been studying this, correct? I can see why, there is a sense of... power within this stone. It's hard to put it to words."

  
Therion carefully drew his blade over a whetstone. Their group had just settled down from traveling, putting a good distance between them and Noblecourt. "Apparently, yeah. I don't really care, I just have to get it back to Boulderfall." He stopped, testing the sharpness of his knife by lightly moving it over his arm- satisfied as it easily shaved off the fine arm hairs.

  
"Hm, you mentioned the noble house there are the rightful owners? I wonder if, perhaps, I could go with you and ask them a few questions about the stone's history..." He handed the stone back to Therion, who slipped it back into one of the hidden pockets in his mantel.

  
It was tempting, the idea of letting Cyrus annoy Cordelia with his unending questions. Would she be annoyed by it? "We aren't going to have the time for you to chat their ears off, I have more stones to get besides this one."

  
There was the sound of fast footsteps in the underbrush. He looked up to see Tressa running back to camp, holding up two large fish in her hands. Alfyn followed behind, smiling brightly.

  
"I caught a really big one this time, check it out!" She held the fish in Therion's face and he leaned away, scowling.

  
"You sure did. Good for you." He wrinkled his nose at the smell and lightly pushed Tressa's hand away. It was strange, she had figured out enough to know that Therion was some sort of monster- but if anything she seemed less afraid of him by the day.

  
Alfyn chuckled at their antics and took a seat near the fire, laying his own fish out on a decently sized flat rock. "Hey, Tress, why don't ya help me get these ready for roasting?"

  
There was something nice about the little moments like this, as they all wound down from a long day of traveling. Tressa liked to reminiscent about the battles they got into along the way, reveling in everyone's skills on the battlefield. Cyrus would sometimes share stories of his life back at the academy, but often he would fall into lectures as he got caught up in one subject or another. Alfyn had plenty to say about growing up in Clearbrook, the mischief he got into with his best friend Zeph. Therion sat and listened (well, mostly. He tuned out most of Cyrus' longer lectures). He didn't really have any stories he wanted to share, that he could share. Most of his past wasn't a place he wanted to revisit.

 

As the group moved further west the path got steeper, colder. The mountains and valleys of the Frostlands were covered in thick snow for most of the year. Therion pulled his mantel tighter around himself as they moved deeper into the region, the wind seemed to cut right through, chilling him to his core. He had pulled on what spare clothes he had, but none of his clothing was well suited for the snow. It clung to the fabric, melting and soaking in leaving him colder than before. The others had pulled on multiple layers as well, but they didn't seem to be fairing much better.

  
"If we're gonna get through this region alive, we're gonna need warmer clothes." Therion grumbled.

  
"You're tellin' me! I think I've got icicles hanging out my nose." Alfyn was walking with his hands tucked into his armpits, trying to keep the digits warm.

  
Tressa counted on her fingers. "It might be a stretch, getting clothes for all of us and rooms at the inn."

  
"Maybe if you let me do my thing in town we could stretch our budget further." Was Therion's dry reply. Tressa grumbled. "Or we can all huddle in one small room and listen to Alfyn snore all night."

  
Alfyn gave him a little push at that as Tressa went quiet, considering. "Fine. But if you get caught you're spending the night in the gaol."

  
"Hm, yeah, fair enough."

 

At last Flamesgrace came into view, a quiet town nestled around the grand cathedral of the sacred flame. The cold was not a deterrent to the locals who milled about, chatting in the streets as they went about their days. A group of children wove between the buildings, pelting each other with snowballs. Tressa was able to haggle down the price of their coats, even so it was still a good chunk gone from what funds the group had. She also went ahead and bought a couple rooms at the inn, proudly declaring to the group that there would be enough beds for all of them, smirking as she handed Therion his key.

  
He should have questioned her then.

  
That evening when he opened the door to his and Alfyn's room he paused, rechecking the door number and the number on the key.

  
Alfyn walked into the room, setting his satchel beside the table. "Didn't Tress say there were enough beds? There's only one in here."

  
Therion groaned and hid the rest of his face in his scarf, still standing in the doorway. "...she did." That brat. He was going to get her back for this.

  
If Alfyn noticed just how red his face had gone, he didn't say anything about it. "Heh, well, I've been sleepin' on the floor everywhere else." He moved to unpack his bedroll as Therion stepped into the room, door clicking closed behind him.

  
"You shouldn't have to. It's too cold here for that." There was a small hearth on the other side of the room, which Therion quickly prepared to light.

  
"Yeah, but I don't want you freezing your butt off either." The fire was lit, starting to gently warm the room. Alfyn joined Therion by the fire, warming his hands. "We could always share. I promise ya that I don't bite." He gave Therion a nudge with his shoulder.

  
"Yeah, and who's to say I won't?"

  
Alfyn gave a nervous laugh, "I guess just warn me first this time."

  
"This time?" He turned his face towards the apothecary. "Wait, wait, are you saying I bit you before?" That couldn't be right, when would that have happened?

  
"Ah, a little?" Alfyn rubbed the back of his neck. Therion heard his heart rate pick up as his face turned a deep red. "You were pretty drunk at the time, guess you wouldn't remember." Oh. Back in Rippletide, then.

  
Therion looked back at the fire, thinking. Did Alfyn just not have any sense of self preservation? Didn't he notice how sharp his teeth were? (Meanwhile the voice purred at the back of his mind, _it sounded like he liked it._ )

  
The silence stretched on a little too long. "Shucks, sorry. Didn't mean to make things weird. It doesn't bother me that you did or anything. I mean- I'll leave ya be and sleep on the floor."

  
Alfyn started to get up and Therion reached over, lightly grabbing his sleeve. "No, you're fine. We can share the bed." He told himself it should be fine, it had only been a couple days and the voice was barely a whisper. It was just one night, just so they both could stay warm enough to get some decent sleep.

  
"Well, alright, if you're sure." The two of them got ready for bed, draping any damp clothing near the fire to allow them to dry. Therion started to climb into bed when Alfyn broke the silence. "Don't ya want to let your scarf dry off? The ends look kinda soggy."

  
Therion pulled up on the scarf. It would be nice to let it dry out, not sleep with the damp fabric sapping away their warmth. But at the same time, had Alfyn actually noticed his teeth were sharp in the first place? He hadn't said anything, or asked any questions about it. "The scarf stays." He settled in under the covers.

  
He felt the bed dip as Alfyn slid in next to him. "Alright. See ya in the mornin'." He settled in, nestling into his pillow. "G'night, Therion."

 

What space there had been between them had vanished by the morning. Therion awoke to find that he had turned over and tucked against Alfyn's chest during the night, face pressed over his heart. Meanwhile Alfyn had wrapped him snugly in his arms, surrounding him in his warmth and pulse. When Therion stirred Alfyn mumbled and gripped a little tighter.

  
"Alfyn," he squirmed and freed one of his arms to nudge the apothecary in the face. "Hey. Medicine man. Wake up."

  
Alfyn's eyes slowly blinked open. After a few moments he seemed to notice the position they were in; Therion heard his heart quicken as he quickly released him from his hold. The thief pulled away and readjusted his scarf.

  
"Heh, morning." Alfyn sat up and stretched before getting out of bed. "You, ah, sleep okay?"

  
He had, actually. No nightmares had haunted him and he felt genuinely well rested. "Let's just get ready to go, I don't know about you but I don't want to camp in the snow."

 

Therion decided that he was glad he hadn't tried to get to Noblecourt through the north path after all. He felt sluggish, the downtrodden snow uneven and slick. It made it harder to avoid injury when their group encountered monsters on the road. At the same time the winter clothes they had picked up offered decent protection against sharp teeth and claws. They made decent enough time, but night started to fall and there was nothing around but snow covered trees and icy rock faces. They managed to make a simple camp, setting up Cyrus' repaired tent for them to share. Unfortunately they were unable to get a good fire going, the branches they found frozen and damp.

  
It was about halfway into Therion's watch when he heard the sound, crunching in the snow and low snuffling. In the moonlight he picked out the hulking form making its way towards the camp and he swallowed. The massive bears of the Frostlands were a challenge even for larger groups. Therion crept back towards the tent, keeping an eye trained on the bear. He needed to wake up the others without alerting the beast. It wasn't unheard of for Frostland bears to kill and eat travelers.

  
The bear sniffed the air and turned, looking right at him. Did standing your ground still work if the bear in question already saw you as food? He settled a hand on the hilt of his sword and took another step back toward the tent. The beast charged.

  
Therion let out a shout, whipping out his sword and staying between the tent and the bear. (He wanted to move, should have moved, but if is got past him to the tent...) The bear let out a growl as he struck the blade to its head before bowling him over. Long claws ripped into his coat, dragging over his shoulder and chest, and he found his face in the bear's mouth. He pressed a hand under the bear's jaw and muttered an incantation. There was the smell of burning fur and a heavy paw smashed down the offending arm.

  
There was more shouting mixed with angry bear sounds, as soon as Therion had an arm free he reached for his dagger and stabbed upwards. The bear gave an angry snarl and reared up, at which point it was engulfed in a swirl of flames. Therion scrambled back, not wanting it to stomp down on him again. The bear staggered back, went back on all fours, turned tail and ran.

  
Alfyn was at his side in an instant. "Good gods, alright, like it or not I'm patchin' you up. You're gonna be okay." He gingerly lifted Therion from the ground, carrying him back towards the tent.

  
Therion groaned in protest, but allowed himself to be moved. Once in the tent Alfyn carefully laid him on a bedroll and fetched his satchel, pulling out jars of salve and bandages. "I'm gonna have to take off your clothes to check your injuries, okay?" Therion nodded and Alfyn began peeling back layers of fabric from his wound.

  
Alfyn started to unwind the scarf and Therion reached up, loosly gripping his wrist. "Heh, sorry, but it has to come off. Gotta clean up where the bear was bitin' ya." Therion grumbled and let go, dropping his arm back to his side. It stung a little as Alfyn cleaned his wounds, but once the salve was on the pain began to fade. He carefully sat him up as he set to wrapping the claw marks over his shoulder and chest. "There we go, you can lie back down now. Heh, you're not too bad off for someone who just got mauled by a bear."

  
Therion pulled a blanket up to his nose, he was cold and he was pretty sure his scarf was covered in bear slobber. "Yeah, I feel real lucky knowing what the inside of a bear's mouth smells like."

  
"Well, not many people can say that, can they?" Alfyn gave him another blanket, trying to keep Therion warm. "You should get some rest. You need anything for the pain?"

  
Therion shook his head. Alfyn sat up with him until the adrenaline crash hit him, pulling him into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a fluffy chapter.  
> But then.
> 
> BEAR.
> 
> Those bears in the Frostlands are no joke. They always gave me a lot of trouble. Think I had to run for it the first time I encountered one.


	9. Sunny Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note 2-16-2019 Gonna be away a few days, so updates will most likely slow down until I get back.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left comments so far! Your excitement and interest over this story gives me life. <3

It was a great relief when the group at last made it out of the Frostlands. The weather grew warmer in their decent of the northern mountains, thick mist hanging low in the dense trees of the Woodlands. Barely any sunlight made it through the canopy, casting the path in shadow. The forest was alive with wildlife, small animals that scurried for cover as they passed by and larger monsters that stalked from the undergrowth.

  
Therion was sore, bruised from the encounter with the bear. None of them had slept well that night, which made them sloppy in battle. This meant they had to stop after every encounter so Alfyn could patch wounds. The smell of blood made the craving growl, a constant nagging at the back of his mind. They would likely be in the Woodlands another two days, maybe more if they kept up the slow pace.

 

They were gathered around their campfire that evening. Cyrus had gone into one of his lectures, so Therion had tuned out of the conversation. He focused instead on cleaning and maintaining the blades on his weapons.

  
"Say, Therion, can ya look this way a second?"

  
He looked over, Alfyn was scrutinizing his face. Therion tugged up at his scarf. "...what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

  
"Sorry I just wanted to check," the apothecary reached out, gently tipping Therion's face to the side, "shucks, it looks like those bite marks are already gone?"

  
Therion jerked away, turning back to cleaning his sword. Crap, the bite marks hadn't really been in a spot he could easily hide. Of course Alfyn noticed right away. "Why are you worried? Sounds like a good thing."

  
"It is, just- seems a bit fast is all?" Alfyn pulled his hand back, but was still looking at him. "I mean, I was worried about keepin' an eye on 'em, make sure they didn't get infected an' all. But now it's like ya never were hurt in the first place."

  
Cyrus stopped ranting and chimed in. "Perhaps he has an affinity for healing magic? Although, I have not noticed him casting any spells. I have to ask, is this normal for you, Therion?"

  
He pulled up on his scarf, too many eyes on him. "I...guess? Does it matter?"

  
"I mean no offence, it is quite the unique ability to have- and beneficial too I imagine. I have heard of spells and enchanted items giving people regenerative abilities, however I have not heard of someone possessing the innate ability to do so. You claim you are not a mage, but what of your parents?"

  
"Can't say I know." Those early days, back when he actually had a family, were blurry. Just out of reach. All he could really remember was when they had fallen ill, that feeling of helplessness as he had watched his life fall apart around him.

  
"What, you don't keep in touch or anything? Thieves don't write letters home?" Therion lowered a glare at Tressa, likely the angriest she's seen from him. Her expression fell.

  
"Most thieves don't exactly have homes to go back to. So, no." Disdain dripped from his voice and he focused back on his sword. The group went quiet, and he hated the silence. He didn't want this, he didn't want their pity over just how miserable his life was.

  
"Therion..." He felt Alfyn's hand rest on his shoulder and he shrugged it off. "Hey, it's okay if you don't wanna talk about it. We won't bring it up again."

  
"Yes, I apologize for prying. It was not my intention to bring up unhappy memories."

  
Tressa nodded, a guilty look on her face. The silence continued to drag on, it seemed the conversation had been thoroughly killed.

  
"...y'know I," Alfyn's voice was quiet, subdued, it didn't really suit him. "I lost my ma. Lil over a year ago now. She raised me on her own, heh I know it couldn't have been easy for her. It, still hurts. Knowin' she ain't around no more. Most I can really do now is visit her restin' place now and again, and hope I do her proud."

  
Given the amount of stories Alfyn had of the trouble he caused as a kid, he bet his poor mother had her hands more than full. Not that Therion was much better to his parents- he always had a bit of an attitude. "About eleven years. It's fine." He packed away his sword, taking out his dagger instead.

  
"Where were ya from? Maybe if we stop by we can find their restin' place."

  
Therion shook his head. "They don't have one. It was...mass cremation." So many people had died during the Great Pestilence that Riverford had begun burning the bodies in the hopes it would slow the spread of the disease. He could still remember how the smoke hung over the city, the smell of burnt flesh. How it made him feel sick. "Don't think they'd be too happy with my choice of profession anyway."

  
"Mass cremation, eleven years ago?" Cyrus paused, thinking. "That would fit the timeline for when the plague hit the Riverlands- burning of the infected bodies became common in the larger settlements." Of course Cyrus would figure it out, man was too smart for his own good.

  
"I remember that, my friend Zeph ended up losin' both his parents to it. It woulda gotten me too, if that traveler hadn't stopped by. You're from the Riverlands, Therion?"

  
He let out a sigh and flopped backwards. "Was. Can't exactly say I had a good time while I was there."

  
"Heh, it's too bad you didn't find your way to Clearbrook then." He could understand why he didn't. When he was actually traveling from town to town it had been with Darius, and they were looking for potential targets. A backwater village like Clearbrook wouldn't have made it onto their radar. "We woulda been happy to have ya."

  
Maybe if he had found his way there, instead of following Darius, things could have turned out different.

  
"What, you don't think your poor mother had her hands full enough just watching you?" Alfyn laughed at that, and Therion relaxed a bit.

 

The next couple of days traveling in the Woodlands was easier, once the group was able to rest properly. As well as they could in bedrolls on the forest floor. When they emerged from the woods Therion winced as the sunlight hit him, being in the shady forest he hadn't noticed how sensitive he was getting. The Cliftlands were almost as unforgiving as the desert had been, dry grasses and dead looking trees were the most common foliage growing on the rocky outcrops. Little shade was to be had among the sun baked stones.

  
They made it to Boulderfall and Therion advised the others to stay in the upper half of the city before making his way back to Ravus manor. Cordelia, thankful for the return of the first stone, offered to remove the bangle then and there.

  
"...you're kidding, right?" What was with people being so stupidly trusting towards him? He was a thief. (He was a monster.) "If you remove this now, then there's no guarantee that I'll follow through with my end of the deal."

  
Cordelia started to protest when the butler, Heathcoat, stopped her. "I would have to agree with him, Lady Ravus. Best we wait until he returns the other stones."

  
Therion nodded. "Speaking of, where's the next one I have to fetch?"

 

Alfyn jumped as the inn room door slammed open. A very grouchy Therion stomped in, flopped on the bed nearest to the door, and yelled into the pillows.

  
"Whoa, hey, did something happen?" The apothecary got up and closed the door. "Ain't really like ya to make such a noisy entrance." Therion said something, but it was muffled into the pillows. "I, uh, didn't quite catch that."

  
The thief rolled over. "The next stone is in the fucking desert." He dragged his hands over his face, he hated the Sunlands. What little time he had spent there was hell- he didn't even want to think what trying to camp out there would be like. "supposed to be a black market- not gonna happen for like a month."

  
"Shucks, sounds like we got time to burn, hu?" Alfyn returned to the table where he had been preparing and sorting herbs. "Guess we'll figure out where we wanna go after meetin' up with the others. It'll be good to see Prim and Olberic again."

  
"Quarrycrest, right? I know some shortcuts- should get us there tomorrow." He had a lot of time to familiarize himself with the lay of the land here, it was also good not to linger long in the Cliftlands. It was hard to find food and water, or even a place to camp that wasn't dangerously close to the steep cliffs. (He avoided the edges best he could.) "I'm turning in, don't stay up too late."

 

It didn't occur to Therion that he should have fed until they set out the following morning. The sun burned, the craving clawed at his mind, and he cursed himself for forgetting. By the time they made it to Quarrycrest- a mining town built into the chiseled out cliff side- the afternoon sun was bearing down and his head was pounding, he just wanted to get out of the sun and rest. Tressa and Cyrus chattered excitedly as they entered town, which made his head hurt even worse.

  
"Right, you guys have fun looking for gold or whatever. I'm gonna go get us rooms at the inn and take a nap." He watched as Cyrus and Tressa scurried off on their respective quests.

  
Alfyn clapped him on the back, "have a good nap, buddy. Want me to fix ya somethin'? You're lookin' a bit rough."

  
Therion shook his head. "Nah, just need to get some rest."

  
"Alright, I'll check up on ya later. If you still ain't feelin' right I'll whip somethin' up for ya."

  
He watched Alfyn go before dragging himself towards the inn.

 

"Excuse me, sir, if I might have a moment of your time-" Cyrus was busying himself, gathering vital information for the past several hours. He had heard from his good friend Odette that there had been disappearances in town- ten people having gone missing over the past month. The sun was about ready to set, he might have to continue the investigation in the morning.

  
He spotted a familiar green vest- his fast friend and traveling companion Alfyn. The apothecary was looking around, concerned and perhaps a bit worried. He spotted the professor and rushed over.

  
"Hey, Cyrus! Have you seen Therion?" This close the worry was clear on his face, the young man wore his heart on his sleeve which made it easier for Cyrus to read him. It wasn't uncommon for more subtle expressions to escape his notice.

  
"No, I cannot say that I have. Perhaps he is out, plying his trade?"

  
"Well, it's just, he said he was goin' to the inn. Get us all rooms. But the innkeeper said nobody fittin' his description has even been by. Been askin' around but it doesn't seem anyone's seen him."

  
Cyrus frowned. "The inn, you say?" He rubbed his chin, "That is strange. I do not wish to alarm you, I am still gathering information, but there have been disappearances in town as of late. A total of ten so far. These disappearances have happened at all times of the day, in broad daylight and the dead of night, all on the east side of town near the inn."

  
Alfyn went pale as Cyrus spoke. "Cyrus. I, I think Therion's one of those missing people now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:3


	10. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for apparent character death. Brace yourselves, this is gonna be a rough one.

Therion watched Alfyn go before making his way towards the inn. He just needed to rest, to lay low until sundown. There was no question he was going to have to find a blood meal that night, he should really know better by now than to let it get this bad.

  
He was just about to reach for the inn door when rough hands grabbed him, pulling him to the side. One released him and pressed over his mouth before he could shout, and he reacted the first way that came to mind. He bit down. **Hard**. The familiar taste of blood rushed into his mouth, he let out a snarl as his assailant muttered a curse. At that point he felt something stab into his neck, a point of deep pressure that was not unlike being stung. The world spun and felt distant as he was still being dragged back, his body sagged. He tried to stay awake, stay aware, to fight back or move or make some sort of sound but it was no use. The world kept drifting away until it, eventually, faded completely.

 

It was cold. An unpleasant dampness hung in the air, it smelled of mildew and blood. (Old blood. No good. Needed to be fresh, _fresh_.) Waking up was a struggle, the effects of the drug still lingering in his system. There was pain. In his neck, in his arm, in his joints and back from lying on the unforgiving cobblestone floor. He tried to stir and found himself bound: hands tied tightly behind his back and ankles together. A gag had been fit securely into his mouth, the cloth didn't even taste clean. Tasted of old blood, grease, something bitter, it left his mouth dry. And he was cold, so cold, the clothing on the top half of his body had been stripped away. Again. Why did people keep stripping him while he was knocked out?

  
Therion pried his eyes open, the room slowly coming into focus. The space was large, cobblestone and stone bricks making up the construction. Metal bars to a cell in the corner. Didn't seem to be the gaol, a dungeon maybe? Where had he been taken, was he even still in Quarrycrest? A set of shackles lined one of the walls, a pale body hanging limp from one set. ( _No heartbeat. Dead._ ) A strange red glow shone from the floor of the open space in the room, but at this angle he couldn't tell just what it was. Eerie red crystals littered the floor and the lone table in the room where a robed figure was standing, muttering to themself. As Therion fought his way back to full consciousness the words became clearer.

  
"...potent, as would be expected. Yet I found it out in the daylight, curious." The figure lowered the vial they had been inspecting. There was the sound of pages turning. The table housed research equipment, but along side the equipment were items that could only be described as instruments of torture. Clamps, large syringes, curved blades, saws- all coated with what Therion knew wasn't rust but dried blood. The mage turned, a too-wide grin on his face. "Oh you are quite the find, aren't you? A vampire, able to move about in sunlight. I would love to speak with whoever made you."

  
He glared at the mage, growling and tugging at the binds. Since when did mages frequent the Clifflands? How did he know what- no. _Oh no_. The guy must be a necromancer. This was bad, he needed to get out of here. Trapped, caught, panic was swirling in his mind and the voice, the craving, was angry. Furious. It was being teased (the smell of blood, even old blood, was just so dense), it wanted to get out. Get free. To rip the blasted mage apart and _feast_.

  
The mage turned away from him again, there was the sound of pages turning again. "None of that, now. You should prove very useful for my current task. Don't worry, I'll keep you well fed between blood draws. I just need to make sure you know your place." He stopped and pointed into his open book. "Ah, here we go. The binding ritual."

  
Therion continued to struggle as the mage slowly walked up to where he was bound on the floor, as the terribly familiar sound of chalk on stone began traveling around him. ( _No. Not again, **not again.**_ ) His bindings didn't budge in the slightest, he only succeeded in wiggling like an angry worm on the floor. The chalk stopped and the mage kneeled, pressing his bandaged hand to the floor and muttering an incantation.

  
The chalk circle glowed, deep blood red, and Therion shouted into his gag in one final act of defiance. He could feel the spell wrapping around something inside him, chains locking around his mind and the innermost part- the very sense of his being. He wanted to keep moving, to keep struggling, but he couldn't move. His body was no longer responding to his commands.

  
It sunk in, then, that he wasn't going to be getting out of this. He had no more control and was completely at the mercy of this psycho. He didn't know where he was. His travel companions, his friends, sure they might notice he was missing but...when, and how would they find him? (They wouldn't, if the body on the wall and bodies in the cell were any indication this guy had been doing this for a while. He knew what he was doing. How to avoid detection.) There was a good chance he wasn't even still in town. He was well and truly alone. Lost.

  
Nobody was coming for him.

  
Tears welled up in his unblinking eyes until they spilled over, his body shook. The mage was looming over him now, but he couldn't even move his eyes to look. Stuck instead staring at their feet, mud clung to their boots.

  
" **Look me in the eye**." Therion found his body moving immediately to follow the order, he locked eyes with the mage. The crazed too-wide grin was back. There was the sound of a blade being pulled from its sheath. It glinted in the corner of his vision. "Excellent. Let's get to work, then, shall we? Once I gather enough of your blood, why, it'll make the most powerful blood stone yet."

 

Alfyn joined Cyrus in his investigation, asking the locals still milling about for information about the town. As the sky began to darken Tressa found them standing in the empty market square discussing what they had found. Cyrus insisted they consider all points of information- a seemingly unrelated detail could well be the key to cracking the case.

  
"What are you two standing around out here for?" She looked between the two men, their expressions grim.

  
"Cyrus is lookin' into some disappearances that have been happenin' in town. And, uh," Alfyn took in a shaky breath, "w-we think whatever's been happenin' got Therion too. Nobody's seen him since we first got to town."

  
"Therion's missing again?" Tressa frowned. "Hm, I'm gonna go check the gaol. Just in case. I'll bail him out if we can afford it."

  
"Yeah, yeah okay." Alfyn nodded. "Should we go with ya? I dunno if it's safe for anybody t' be goin' alone right now."

  
"The disappearances have all happened in the same area, so long as she does not venture to the east side of town alone she should, in theory, be safe."

  
Tressa turned to leave. "I'll be fine! Therion's gonna get such an earful for making you guys worry!" She ran back up the slope leading to the north half of town. The thief had probably gotten himself caught. He was going to owe her big time for paying his bail, no way would she let him live this down.

  
Cyrus and Alfyn returned to their prior conversation. "Those who have gone missing are men and women, locals and travelers. The cause of the disappearances does not seem to be picky in who it takes. There does not seem to be much of a pattern for what days they occur or their frequency..."

  
Alfyn groaned, dragging a hand over his face as he raked his mind. "I heard from the miners that the town is owned by some guy name... Morlock or somethin'? He pays folks for th' gold they dig up. One lady told me about what plants bloom best in gardens here- she had a lotta sage, and...one guy talked my ear off about how the town used to have this big sewer system? Ain't been used in years."

  
"Hm, a sewer system you say? I wonder..." Cyrus began walking and Alfyn followed close behind. "People have vanished in both broad daylight and the dead of night, all on the east side of town. Near the inn. Wherever the people have been taken, it has so far escaped the notice of the denizens of this town. Nothing suspicious has been seen leaving or entering town." They turned a corner to the side of the inn, hidden by overgrown plants and aged wooden boards was a passage carved into the cliff side. The sound of running water could be faintly heard. "Oho, what have we here?"

  
Alfyn tilted his head, "Do you think that leads to the sewer that guy was talking about? But, it doesn't look like anyone has opened it up in years."

  
Cyrus moved closer, inspecting the boards. "The entrance seems to be boarded up but..." he reached out and gave one an experimental nudge. The boards swung easily out of the way. "Yes it simply looks as though it has been abandoned, these boards are a facade."

  
"That means- you think all those people are down there?"

  
The scholar nodded, pulling and lighting a lantern from his pack before descending into the darkness. "I say we are on the right track. Let us see what we can find."

 

A muggy mist hung in the air of the unused sewer, the maze-like paths were quiet aside from the sound of dripping and the occasional splash of large beasts moving about in the water. The area was populated by monsters, massive salamanders and chittering bats. They were not happy with their presence or the light of the lantern, some slinked away back into the shadows while others they had to fight off.

  
One path, however, seemed to be well traveled. Used. Muddy tracks on the ground and hand prints in the grime on the walls. Alfyn picked up his pace, rushing ahead as they neared an archway deep within the system. It was lit, like a beacon in the otherwise dark tunnels.

  
He was not prepared for what he found as he turned into the room.

  
The room stank of death. The first thing to draw his eye was the evil-looking magic circle that spanned most of the floor, letting off a deep red glow. There was a table covered in blood-stained tools and so many vials of red liquid (was that, blood? Oh gods he was starting to feel sick). A man hung limply from shackles on the wall, and on the floor-

  
In the center of a second magic circle, sprawled on the floor, was Therion. Alfyn sucked in a breath and rushed over. He didn't seem to be bound in any way, but he wasn't moving either. Was he knocked out, drugged?

  
He got closer and his heart sank. The thief's throat had been slit, dried blood clung down his bare neck and torso. Those brilliant sea foam green eyes glazed over, stuck wide open.

  
"No. No no no, _gods no_ -" The apothecary took in another shaky breath and collapsed to his knees next to the body. This couldn't be happening. Therion wasn't, he couldn't be _dead._ This had to be some sort of bad dream, or maybe- he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  
"I am going to look around, see if I can figure out what has been going on down here. I-" Cyrus gave Alfyn's shoulder a squeeze. "I am sorry."

  
Therion heard Alfyn let out a sob as Cyrus walked away. If only he could move, could talk, something- anything! They shouldn't be here. That crazy necromancer would be back any moment and neither of them were even slightly on guard.

  
He felt Alfyn gather him in his arms, lifting him gently, slowly pulling his limp body into a desperate hug. Aflyn's body shook and Therion felt warm tears land against the back of his neck. The sound of his heartbeat was loud in his ears, his pulse thrummed against his skin. The craving growled, it wanted- **needed** blood so desperately but it could not take control any more than Therion could.

  
"Oh gods, Therion, I- I'm so sorry." Alfyn let out another heavy sob against him. His voice was subdued, shaky. "I'm so, so sorry. You didn't deserve this. You didn't- gods I shoulda gone with ya to the inn. Maybe, maybe then-" he trailed off, sniffling and taking in unsteady breaths.

  
No, this wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. Just the bad luck of a gods forsaken man.

  
The sobbing continued, and Alfyn's stuttering dropped to barely a whisper. "Never, never got the chance to tell ya... how much I really liked travelin' with ya. Thought we were, startin' to have a good thing goin' there. That...that maybe..." he choked out another sob "guess, guess it just... wasn't meant to be, hu?" What, what was Alfyn saying? (It felt so strange, hearing him cry and knowing it was because of him. Because he looked dead. Why, why did he care? Why would anyone actually care? Therion wasn't someone worth caring about.)

  
There was the rattling of bones and Alfyn was suddenly pulled away from him, yanked back by a skeletal sentry. Therion dropped unceremoniously to the hard floor. "H-hey! What the hell?" The apothecary stumbled backwards as he was pulled unwillingly to his feet.

  
A third set of boots on the stone. The mage had returned, hand raised from the spell he used to activate the sentry. "Well well, what do we have here?" He looked between Cyrus, Alfyn, and the lump on the floor that was a motionless Therion. "Was the day-walking Vampire yours? Sorry- it proved to valuable for my work to pass up."

  
"Wh-what the hell are you talking about? What did you do to him, you bastard!" Alfyn struggled against the bony grip, Therion didn't think he had ever heard him so angry.

  
Cyrus kept his voice level, "Your work? I suppose that has something to do with these strange crystals, and these runes- they are high Hornburgian, yes?"

  
The mage cracked a grin at Cyrus, it was more bearing his teeth than a proper smile. "Ah, it must be your work then. If you are curious, why, I would love to ask you some questions. Compare notes. Perhaps see if we can replicate the results."

  
"You are mistaken, sir. To study necromancy, blood magic, and their history is one thing, but to put it to use?" He pointed at one of the strange red stones, as he spoke his rage became more evident in his voice. "These crystals, if I am not mistaken they are made of human blood? From the mixed hues I would surmise that multiple individuals were used to make them. Eleven people have gone missing here as of late, I see only four over there in the cell. I am guessing they yet live, but the others?" Cyrus shook his head. "No, I fear I cannot condone the work you have been doing here."

  
The mage clicked his tongue and pulled out his curved, bloodstained dagger. "A shame. I would have liked to have picked your brain, but I guess I'll settle for sucking your blood instead. At least you have good timing, the vampire needs feeding."

  
He pointed his free hand at Therion, his words resonating to his core. " **Get up. The blonde man is your meal. Feed.** "

  
Therion lurched to his feet, shaky and unsteady like a puppet on strings. His stance felt unnatural, limp and loose. Head snapping up to attention, his eyes locked on to Alfyn and he saw his confusion and anger melt into fear and disbelief. ( _No. No, please, don't make me do this._ )

  
"Th-Therion?" The apothecary's heart was pounding. It called to him.

  
He tried, desperately, to hold himself back. There was but a moment of hesitation before the order of the binding spell and the craving overpowered his clinging scraps of humanity. He felt himself sprinting forward, teeth bared, closing the distance between himself and the apothecary.

  
He saw the terror in Alfyn's earthy brown eyes. He was frozen, not even struggling against the skeleton holding him anymore. ( _No. **No!** Stop this, somebody stop this please he didn't want to-_)

  
Cold enveloped him and his limbs came to a sudden stop, mere inches from Alfyn. Ice crept up his body, encasing his legs up to his hips and his arms up to the shoulders. The craving and the spell struggled and pulled desperately against the hold of the ice spell, Therion heard himself let out a frustrated snarl. He sounded beastly, inhuman.

  
He felt tears spilling out of his wide open eyes, running down his face. Relief that Cyrus had thought to stop him. Devastation that this. This was the end. Just as he thought that maybe, maybe he had people he could trust in his life again, it had all been shattered. How could he ever be anything but a monster in their eyes after this?

  
Sentimental fool. This is what he got for getting attached. How many times was the world going to try and teach him that same lesson?

  
Alfyn's eyes searched his face, for a moment he thought he was going to start crying again. His expression hardened as he turned his attention towards the crazy mage, squirming until he could grab one of the skeleton's arms from over his shoulder. "I don't know what the hell you've been doing, but, you aren't getting away with this!"

  
He twisted and the skeleton flew over his shoulder, sailing through the air past where Therion was bound in ice. There was the clattering of bones and a loud sputtering of curses, the skeletal sentry had collided with its master. The apothecary hefted his ax and rushed into the fight, which was now out of Therion's view. The clashing of spells left the air charged with energy; the metallic, burning smell of the magic mixed with the other unpleasant smells of the room.

  
With a final shout from Alfyn there was a wet thunk, the sound of ax meeting flesh, and Therion felt the spell binding him to the mage's will shatter. He drew in a long, shaky inhale of air and his body sagged as he exhaled. He closed his eyes tight and couldn't hold back the sobs, the dam had been broken. They echoed in the silence of the room, nothing could hold them back. He, he had almost- he had almost killed Alfyn. He was going to rip out his throat, like he had done to that necromancer that fateful day. (He could see the mental image, what could have been, clear in his mind's eye. Alfyn replacing the nearly decapitated mage, his blood on his hands.)

  
He was a monster.

  
He was a monster and now, now his allies were going to do what you were supposed to do to monsters.

  
It's what he deserved.

 

He heard the sound of Alfyns boots on the stone floor, circling back around to him. Therion kept his eyes squeezed closed, he couldn't bring himself to look. He didn't want to see it coming. The look on Alfyn's face as he dealt the fatal blow. There was a pause, maybe only a few seconds but the anticipation dragged them out for ages. What was he waiting for?

  
"Therion? Is that," he felt Alfyn's hand, callused but gentle, against his face, "h-hey, can you look at me a sec?"

  
He let out another sob. Alfyn's hand was warm, he wanted to take comfort in the contact but the voice was still growling, so aware of the pulse and the smell of blood (Fresh, _ **FRESH**_ ) in the air. Therion opened his eyes as he took in another wavering breath, allowing his head to be tipped upwards.

  
Alfyn looked haggard, eyes red and puffy from crying and his cheeks still wet from tears. A small, hopeful smile crept onto his face as their eyes met. "H-hey, is that you? Are you...back?"

  
"Alfyn, I-" What could he even say right now, after everything that happened? His body was shaking so hard, if it was from the cold or the craving he couldn't really say. "Fuck, I- I'm sorry."

  
Tears welled up in the apothecary's eyes and his grin grew wider. "Cyrus, can you call off the spell? I think- I think he's back!"

  
"D-don't-" Therion shook his head. "I'm not- I might-" He took in a deep breath, trying to calm down. Gather his thoughts and his words. The voice was screeching, it made it so hard to focus.

  
"Shh, it's okay, it's gonna be okay-"

  
"It's not okay! D-damn it Alfyn I- I could have _killed_ you! I might still kill you! How is that okay?!" A fresh wave of tears streaked down his face. Damn it, why was he stalling? He was dangerous. He was dangerous, a monster, why wasn't he putting him out of this misery? They shouldn't be talking, he shouldn't be trying to comfort him. After what he almost did he should be finding himself at the business end of Alfyn's ax.

  
He felt the ice holding his arms and legs dissipate and his body dropped. Alfyn didn't let him hit the floor. He still felt so cold, so drained and empty. The craving was clawing for control but his body felt completely spent.

  
"Damn, you're an icicle." Alfyn carefully lowered them until he was kneeling on the floor again, holding him in his lap and against his body. There was the sound of a book snapping shut and footsteps as Cyrus walked over. The scholar removed his cloak and draped it over Therion. It felt warm, plush and soft. The warmth, the steady sound of Alfyn's heartbeat, made him realize just how tired he was. How difficult it was to keep his stinging eyes open. Another soft sob issued from Therion's body as he pressed his face softly into Alfyn's chest, over the pounding beat of his heart.

  
"This is...most curious." Cyrus wandered away again, this time to the table to inspect the open book there.

  
"You still with us, Theri?" The thief issued a soft whimper, curling up against Alfyn's chest. He wasn't shaking as hard now but he was still freezing, that wasn't good. Alfyn tucked Cyrus' robe around Therion, swaddling him.

  
"To think, Therion was hiding vampirism this entire time. Yet, he is still clearly a thinking, feeling person. We have witnessed him out in the sunlight and eating regular foods. This binding ritual-" Cyrus walked back over with a second book in hand, looking between it and the chalk circle they had found Therion in when they had arrived. "This spell only works on necrotic constructs. Ah, I suppose that would explain the magical signature he puts out. Hm, as well as why he's so adamant about covering his mouth with his scarf. Tressa had told me-"

  
"Cyrus." Alfyns' voice snapped the professor out of his ramblings. "What are we gonna do? He- he was hurt so bad. He's alive now, but- I, I don't think I can fix this."

  
"Ah. Yes, of course. He seems...tired from this ordeal. Vampires are supposed to be highly resilient, so he may still recover. Best he gets some rest someplace not so cold and damp. Why don't you take him to the inn while I check on the other captives, get a room for the three of us. Therion sounded like he was afraid he still wasn't in control of his actions. I shall join you once I finish up here."

  
Alfyn nodded and stood, carefully cradling Therion in his arms. He adjusted him slightly, keeping him wrapped in Cyrus' cloak. "Yeah, alright, that sounds good. You just hang in there, Therion, we're gonna take care of ya."


	11. Shards

Tressa stood alone in the empty market square. It was dark, Cyrus had said something about it not being safe to go near the inn, and just where the heck did he go anyway? Seriously, they couldn't have waited for her to come back from checking the gaol? Screw this, she was tired, it was getting cold, and she hadn't even had supper yet!

  
As she approached the inn a familiar figure in green rounded the corner in front of her. Alfyn! What was he carrying? She broke into a run. "There you are! Do you have any idea-" as Tressa got closer she realized just what- or rather, _who_ , Alfyn was carrying. Therion looked ashen, he was mostly covered up by Cyrus' robe but she still spotted the wound on his neck. Tressa swallowed. "Is- is he..."

  
Alfyn shook his head. "He's badly hurt, but alive. Think you can give me a hand? I need to get a room so he can rest- Cyrus is gonna help keep an eye on him too."

 

The innkeeper startled when they entered. With Therion's dire condition they were able to get a large discount on a room- to use as long as was needed. The inn didn't have any rooms with more than two beds, but that was fine. Alfyn could sleep on the floor, or sleep in shifts with Cyrus to keep an eye on Therion. Upon arriving in the room he carefully laid the injured thief down in a bed and set to cleaning him up.

  
Tressa hovered in the doorway. "What happened to you guys? Where's Cyrus?"

  
Alfyn didn't respond right away, which was unsettling. "We...we found out what's been happenin' to the folks who went missing." He went quiet again, taking in a deep, shaky breath before letting it out. "It was. You don't wanna know what we saw down there. It was bad. Cyrus is helpin' the other folks who survived."

  
"Oh. Okay..." Gosh, what was she supposed to do in a situation like this? Her stomach growled. After going through so much Alfyn was probably even hungrier. "I'm gonna ask the innkeep to bring you some food."

  
He nodded, "thanks, Tress." Done cleaning, he picked up a blanket and tucked it over Therion's body. Hopefully he would be warm enough. The apothecary sighed, dragged over a chair, and took a seat at the bedside.

 

The food arrived, some fruit and bread, but Alfyn didn't touch it. He wasn't hungry. It was a lot to process, what had happened down in the sewer. He felt tired, nauseous, but there was no time to rest now. That bastard- they had done something to Therion. His mind kept looping back to the sight of his friend (who he had really, truly thought was dead) being used like a puppet. That hollow look when they had locked eyes, how it made his blood run cold. It was wrong, whatever that mage had done. So very, very wrong. Everything they had been doing down there was- why it was the worse thing Alfyn had ever seen. Innocent people being used up and thrown away. Like their lives meant nothing.

  
He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear when the door opened and closed. Alfyn jumped, startled, when a hand settled on his shoulder.

  
"Ah, my apologies, I did not realize you did not see me come in." Cyrus pulled his hand away and took a step back. "I was able to find Therion's clothing and weapons, and the survivors have been returned to their homes. I will be working with Odette and the local guard over the next few days to finalize the details of the crime scene." Cyrus placed the items on the room's table, next to the plate of food.

  
Alfyn nodded as Cyrus took a seat on the other bed. "Alfyn, you look troubled, my friend. Which is understandable, what you just experienced was no doubt traumatic. Do know that I am here, if you need someone to talk to."

  
"It's... a lot to take in." He hunched over, leaning on his knees. "When I set out on this journey, I wanted to help people. Save them, like how I was saved. I never thought... I _killed_ a man, Cyrus. Bloodied my own hands."

  
"You killed a man, yes, but the man was also actively trying to kill you. He was going to kill all of us, and had killed at least six people previously. I am confident that you will not run into trouble with the law for your actions given the circumstances-"

  
"It ain't just about if the law cares. And, part of me wants to say the guy had it coming. At the same time I..." He felt so conflicted. He was a healer, a gentle hand to help someone on their feet. He had been so angry at the time but now that it was all over, had he really done the right thing? He couldn't be sure. "There coulda been a way to stop him without killin' the guy."

  
"That is possible. However that is not the solution we ultimately arrived at today, and we may have never known Therion still had his mind intact if the man still lived."

  
"..." Alfyn looked back over at the sleeping thief. The rise and fall of his chest was the only real indication he was alive at all. "Do you really think he's gonna be able to... that he'll be able to wake up again?"

  
"If he is a vampire, then he should, yes. I shall have to ask him some questions once he recovers, I have never heard of a case quite like this. In fact, I should be taking notes-" Cyrus opened his pack, pulling out his notebook and quill.

  
"Vampire...what does that mean, anyway? I mean, Therion's got some quirks, but he ain't a monster." He had been...turned into a monster, temporarily, by that mage. But he was back now, right?

  
"You recall the magical constructs we have faced, correct? There is a line of necromancy around applying such spells to bodies instead of metal or glass. The skeletons we have encountered are an example of this. Vampires are a form of necromatic construct which use blood magic to maintain their bodies, allowing them to heal from even critical injuries. The spells keeping them animated require a supply of human blood to remain active..." Cyrus scribbled quickly in his notebook as he spoke, getting down all the details he could. "The spells, however, have an adverse reaction to sunlight which causes them to burn to ash with exposure. Since the binding ritual worked on Therion, and given the magical signature he gives off, it's apparent these construct spells are in play on his person. Then there are his teeth, and the fact he was alive and aware even after being drained of his blood and frozen..."

  
"Cyrus- Cyrus!" He had to try a couple times to get the scholar's attention. "If they use blood to heal up... then that means he's gonna need a lot of it when he wakes up."

  
"Ah. Yes, yes I suppose it does. I shall venture to the local butcher in the morning and see if I can get something there; animal blood can be used for blood magic though the results are nowhere near as strong as they are with human blood. It may be enough that we don't have to worry about him trying to drain somebody dry."

  
"D-drain somebody- you don't really think he would do something like that?"

  
Cyrus stopped writing and looked up at Alfyn. "I do not believe Therion as a person would want to, no, but... do understand, vampires were hard wired to keep themselves maintained. To seek out blood meals as they needed them. I cannot say how that might factor in to Therion's unique condition, but, we must be aware it is a possibility."

 

Therion groaned, curling up in the blankets. The craving was growling loud at the forefront of his mind, it needed blood so bad. It could hear a heartbeat in the room. It was close, so close! He cracked an eye open and saw Alfyn, slouched half in a chair half on his bed. Asleep. How long had he been sitting there?  
What did he think he was _doing_ , being so close to him right now? After-

  
There was a click and the door to the room opened. The smell of blood hit him as Cyrus entered.

  
"-I thank you again, for haggling down the price. I never would have thought pig's blood could be so expensive." Cyrus. Pig's blood? Why the hell did Cyrus buy a bunch of pig's blood?

  
Therion moved to sit up, his body was shaking. He locked on to Cyrus who, sure enough, was carrying two jars of a dark red liquid. (The craving didn't care what it was from, it just needed blood. Now, **_right now_**.) The blankets pooled at his waist, he was so distracted by the jars he almost didn't notice the chill of the air on his bare skin. He...still didn't have his clothes?

  
Cyrus bid farewell to Tressa and closed the door before at last turning and spotting Therion. "Ah! It is good to see you are awake, I realize it isn't an ideal treatment for your condition," he walked over and held one of the jars out to him. Therion found himself staring at it, confused. Trying to piece together just what, exactly, was going on here while the craving was screaming at him to just accept it already. "but perhaps it can sate your need for the time being, until we work out a better solution."

  
The craving won out, Therion snatched the jar and drained the contents before he fully realized what had happened. It settled the voice enough that he could think a little more clearly. "...you guys are idiots." He ground out, moving to wipe his mouth. His throat felt sore, tender, causing his voice to come out gravely and rough.

  
"I would have to disagree with that statement." Cyrus held out the other jar. "Is this helping any?"

  
Therion grumbled and traded the full jar for his empty one. "Takes the edge off. Doesn't the fact I just guzzled down a jar of blood bother you?"

  
"I work at a college. I have seen people drink much worse." The professor said in such a matter-of-fact manner that Therion couldn't help but snort out a small laugh.

  
"You scholarly types are so weird." He started on the second jar. "You and Alfyn are still idiots. Why would you even want to bring me back after... and you left Alfyn alone with me after everything that happened?"

  
"I- alright, I can concede that was a risk. Are you afraid that there are lingering effects from the binding spell you had been put under, or does the worry stem from a preexisting effect of your vampiric condition?" Cyrus pulled out a notebook, flipping it open.

  
He took a long draw from the jar. He really didn't want to go into detail about that, about how the craving tried to control him. He didn't want to admit it out loud. "...what, are you just helping me so you can study me too? Be your lab rat?"

  
"Oh heavens, no! I simply wish to ask you some questions, make a record. This is all quite fascinating, what we know of vampires comes from secondhand accounts. I have already made notes as to how you differ from what typical vampires were like." He turned the notebook towards him, Therion rolled his eyes and finished off the second jar.

 

Alfyn stirred, making a soft sound before sitting up in his chair and rubbing his eyes. He seemed pretty groggy until he cracked his eyes open and spotted Therion sitting up. His expression immediately lit up, smiling bright, eyes shimmering like he might start crying any moment. The thief suddenly found himself pulled into a tight hug, face pressed to Alfyn's neck.

  
"Therion! Gods- you're actually alive!" He instinctively clung back, reveling in the feel of his warmth and pulse. (The voice was growling again, it still needed more.)

  
"That's nice, but," he squirmed a little in the apothecary's grip, voice muffled against his neck. "keep hugging me like this and I can't promise I won't bite you."

  
"S-sorry." Alfyn let him go, moving back into his chair. "Did Cyrus' idea not work?"

  
"No, it... if it didn't work I probably would have bitten you just now." He looked away, it felt so strange, admitting it out loud. Talking about this, like it wasn't some huge secret that could mean his death. He had Cyrus asking annoying questions on one side, the craving growling on the other, at this rate he was gonna get a headache.

  
"Oh, okay, good- I'm glad it worked then!"

  
Therion pulled his legs up, hugging his knees. "...I don't get why you're, why aren't either of you scared of me?" He was a monster, but they were treating him like nothing had changed. He didn't deserve this. "I nearly killed you, Alfyn. How can you stand to be in the same room as me at all?"

  
Alfyn started to reach out, to put a hand on his shoulder, then pulled back. "Therion... that, it was scary. I thought," he sniffled, "gods, I thought you were dead and that bastard was just, just using you. It wasn't you, though. You, you wouldn't..."

  
He wouldn't, no, if he had his way he would never try to hurt Alfyn like that. But the craving? It had been fully on board. "You're too trusting for your own good. It's going to get you hurt one of these days."

  
"Yeah, well, I ain't about to throw you away just because somebody hurt you." Therion held back tears. Damn it all. Why wouldn't he, why take that risk?

  
"Fine, but you're the one risking your neck hanging out with a bloodthirsty monster."

  
"Right... say, um, do you know how much you still need?" How much what? Blood? It would be around the upper limit he felt was safe to take in one feeding, he supposed.

  
"Why are you asking? Don't tell me you're writing up a paper too."

  
He heard Alfyn's heart rate increase and turned to see the man had gone completely red. What had him so nervous? "W-well, I was thinking, and. If it's human blood you need- then maybe I could. Um. Give it to you?"

  
Was he being serious right now? (The growling of the craving picked up, yes! Accept!) "If you're actually going to offer, I'm not about to say no. You realize what you're volunteering yourself for here, right?"

  
"Yeah, it's the best way t' help ya recover, right?" Therion cracked a wry, toothy smile and he heard the apothecary's heart skip a beat. Well, if he insisted-

  
"I am curious, Therion, how do you normally find blood meals?" He snapped out of his thoughts, smile dropping. Cyrus was still here. Right. How could he forget that?

  
He took in a deep breath. "Normally? Sneak into a house, find someone who's asleep."

  
"Truly?" The scholar scribbled down more notes. "Doesn't the pain of being bitten wake them up?"

  
"Nobody ever has." He had never thought to much of it, really. All the better that they don't wake up when he's feeding.

  
"I see. Alfyn, if you are offering to allow Therion to take a blood meal from you, would you mind if I observe? Ah- it may be best if I remain with the two of you anyway just in case..."

  
Alfyn nodded, shifting in his chair. "Yeah. Yeah, okay. So, uh, what do I need- do I need to do anything?"

  
Therion scooted over, making room on his bed. He patted the empty space. "You should get comfortable, it can take a while." He waited as Alfyn kicked out of his boots and settled on the bed next to him. He didn't even need to be able to hear his heartbeat to know just how nervous he was. "You sure about this?"

  
"Yeah, I wanna help you out." He adjusted the pillows behind him so they supported his back. "Okay. I think I'm ready."

  
"Alright, hang on-" Therion climbed into Alfyn's lap, "should have a better angle like this- still okay?" He couldn't deny that his own heart was racing as well. This wasn't like how he usually fed, quietly taking what he needed or safely could before vanishing into the night. Alfyn was letting him do this. There was no rush. (The occasional scratch of a quill on paper reminded him that Cyrus was there too, watching.)

  
"Y-yeah," the apothecary dropped his voice to a whisper, "shucks you're gonna make my face catch fire at this rate."

  
"I can tell, think I can already see smoke." Therion chuckled and leaned in, pressing a light kiss over the pulse point of Alfyn's neck. "I'll try to be gentle- but not gonna lie. This is probably gonna hurt."

  
Therion pulled back his lips and bit down carefully, humming as he felt his teeth sink in and the refreshing taste of blood rush into his mouth. Alfyn gasped and tensed at first, then he let out a soft sigh as his body relaxed. Arms wrapped around him again, softly clinging to him and surrounding him in the beat of Alfyn's pulse.

  
The voice was purring in satisfaction at the back of his mind, it felt so different. Knowing that Alfyn was willingly giving this to him. Therion drank in every little sound the apothecary was making as he licked at the bite wound, melted into the warmth of his arms around him. It felt... intimate.

  
Cyrus watched the exchange from where he had perched on the other bed, writing down his observations. "Alfyn, how are you feeling? You do not seem to be in pain?"

  
Alfyn groaned. "It. It hurts a little, but, it also feels good?" He shuddered, it felt really good. Maybe...maybe a little **too** good. He heard Therion chuckle against his neck.

  
Therion kept his voice hushed, so Cyrus couldn't hear. "Well _somebody_ is enjoying themselves, you gonna tell the professor?" He wiggled a little in Alfyn's lap, making the apothecary gasp and bite back a moan.

  
"D-don't you dare tell him-" Oh gods this was embarrassing. On one hand the professor couldn't see the tell-tale bulge in his pants, on the other that was because Therion was nestled _right on top of it_.

  
"What are you two muttering about? Is something wrong?"

  
"N-nothin's wrong, just," Therion had gone back to feeding from his wound, it made it hard to talk. "w-wasn't expectin' it t'...feel like this."

  
Time passed slowly. By the time Therion pulled away Alfyn was panting, his head was spinning. The feelings swirling around in his mind were one thing, but he also felt a little dizzy from blood loss.

  
"You doing okay there?" Alfyn groaned and dropped his head to Therion's shoulder. The thief chuckled. He had bitten plenty of people over the past few years, but none of them had a reaction quite like this. It would be a lie to say it didn't have him worked up too.

  
The other bed creaked as Cyrus got up. "I shall fetch you both some breakfast, provided- Therion it is safe for me to do so, yes? Now that you have satisfied your need for blood?"

  
"Should be fine, yeah." Cyrus left the room, the click of the door closing echoing loud in the room. "I take it you're ready for me to get off of you, hu?"

  
Alfyn's grip on him loosened and he moved aside, sitting next to him in the bed. The apothecary let out another groan and fell backwards, covering his face in his hands. "O-okay that was... that was somethin' else."

  
Therion was trying, very hard, not to start outright laughing. "I can't believe Cyrus didn't notice! You were making so many noises too-" The apothecary groaned again and swatted lightly at him.

  
"Gods I didn't mean to make this get so weird..."

  
"Alfyn, I was drinking blood from your neck. It was already weird." He scooted forward until he could climb off the bottom edge of the bed.

  
"I guess..." Alfyn sat back up, pulling a pillow into his lap. "Just. Shucks- I think next time you should buy me dinner first."

  
Therion retrieved his shirt and pulled it back on over his head. He eyed the scarf, it really needed a wash. Wait- next time? The craving was satisfied but he swore he heard it purr at the thought. "I think that could be arranged."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alfyn can't hide it. He's into it.


	12. King of the Quarry

Therion sat at the table, carefully removing items from the pockets of his mantel so it could be washed. A pile of various trinkets, fruits, and small tools was building up next to him. "Alright, so, you guys know. And Cyrus told Tressa. Is that it?"

  
"Ah, I also mentioned your condition to Odette while summarizing the events of last evening." Cyrus and Alfyn were both still working on the plates of eggs that Cyrus had brought up. Therion had opted for an apple he found on the table before the professor had returned.

  
The thief let out a frustrated sigh. "Wonderful. Just, don't go telling more people. I don't want everybody and their grandmas knowing I'm a vampire."

  
"What about Prim and Olberic? They're gonna be travelin' with us again soon-" It sounded like Alfyn was talking with his mouth full.

  
Therion shook his head. "The fewer people who know the better." Besides, he couldn't be sure how they might react. It was one thing that he was a thief, another completely that he wasn't even really human. He tsked as he found a hole in one of his pockets, that would need to be patched up. "So no, don't tell them either."

  
"I will do my best to follow your request in the future, and I shall let Tressa and Odette know as well." Cyrus set aside his plate and pulled that gods damned notebook out again. "If I may, Therion, how long have you had this condition? Do you know who did this to you? Perhaps we should consider tracking them down..."

  
"About three years now." Three years since he fell, since... "And you don't have to worry about the guy doing it to anyone else." He wondered if the remains were still there in that cave. It had probably been cleared out by scavengers and vagrants by now.

  
"Three years. I suppose that wouldn't be long enough to know if you still age or not..."

  
That got his attention. Therion looked up at the professor. "What do you mean _if_ I still age?"

  
"Well, since vampires are animated dead bodies, they cease to grow and change as living bodies do. They only stay intact and don't rot away because of the blood magic which maintains the body. So, in theory, you may live for many years and not age a day. Why, it's possible you may live far beyond a normal human lifespan."

  
This news was... distressing. It shouldn't matter, it's not like he ever stayed in one place long enough for people to notice his lack of change. It wasn't like he would remain in anyone's life long enough for it to matter. "Guess I'll find out, if this journey doesn't kill me first."

  
"On that note, I have to wonder... you died once, yes? What was that like?"

  
"Shucks, Cyrus, not sure that's the sorta thing you can just _ask_ somebody."

  
"No shit." Therion turned his mantel inside out, scowling down at the hole he needed to mend. "Don't think I actually died? Granted with how painful it was I might as well have been in hell." He was pretty sure he had been dying at the time, a little more time and maybe he would have been dead. He heard Cyrus hum and jot down more notes.

  
"I wonder... this is just a theory, but, perhaps your unique condition is because you were still alive when you were turned? I will have to see if I can find accounts of similar instances. It is possible necromatic rituals have been attempted on live individuals before."

  
Therion picked out a needle and spool of thread from the pile of things he had pulled from his pockets. "Well, lucky me." He used his teeth to cut off a length of thread and started stitching. "Are you done? I have other things I gotta do besides sit around being interrogated."

  
"Ah-" Cyrus pulled out a pocket watch. (Fancy, but probably best he didn't steal from his travel companions.) "I actually should be going myself, I was going to meet with Odette and the town guard to go over what we found in the sewer. I also need to speak with Odette concerning the abridged version of _From The Far Reaches of Hell_ that necromancer had. Hopefully it is the lead we need to track down the stolen original copy." Therion really did not care, he just wanted the blabbering scholar to leave him alone for a bit. "I shall see you gentlemen again this evening."

 

Cyrus gone, laundry done, Therion headed out with Alfyn to take a look around town. They encountered Tressa in the town square, the thief found his eyes drawn to the shiny green stones she had on display. Skystones, pretty good find. She wasn't the only merchant with a setup, however, she was glaring down a Sunlands native boy nearby. (Kid was likely around the same age as Tressa, actually.) He had skystones as well, and a sizable crowd.

  
Therion picked up one of the stones, tossing it in the air and catching it. "Got some competition?"

  
Tressa huffed. "I can't believe this! I mean, are you hearing what's going on over there?" He could, the other merchant was one hell of a smooth talker. "Resorting to cheap flattery, really?"

  
"Can't deny the results, though." Tressa turned her glare at him, snatching the stone out of the air when he tossed it up again. "What? It's part of the business you know."

  
"Yeah and what would a thief know about selling honest merchandise?" She put the stone back with the others and let out a sigh. "Guess the pig's blood worked, you're back to your annoying self."

  
"About that. Not sure if Cyrus has told you yet, but, you can't go around blabbing about my... condition. Got it? Which means, you know, not bringing up stuff like _that_ in a public market."

  
Tressa gave a dismissive wave, "yeah, yeah, he mentioned it. Still can't believe it, was sure you were a fairy. Fairy woulda been cooler."

  
Alfyn snorted and started giggling. "W-why did you think he was a fairy? Bit grouchy for a sparkly magical pixie, isn't he?"

  
"No, no, like the fairies from older stories! The kind that look kinda human and- you know the kind you're not supposed to take food from cuz then you owe them and they'll take you with them back to their fairy world!"

  
Therion dragged a hand down his face. "Don't go telling people I'm a fairy either."

  
"Aw, where's the fun in that? But fine. Now if you excuse me, I need to make some **honest** earnings selling these stones."

  
"We'll see ya later, Tress! Good luck!" He followed Alfyn towards the upper half of the city where they split, Alfyn off to check in on some patients and Therion to see just what he could find in the mines.

 

It was a lucrative day, the miners were so focused on trying to find gold that other less valuable stones and ores were completely off their radar. All he really had to do was sort through the unguarded piles of rubble. Their loss, really. As evening approached he made his way to the tavern.

  
When he entered something made his skin crawl, a sense in the air that he really shouldn't be near something in there. That was new, he didn't like it.

  
As he was about to back out and leave a familiar lady in red waved him down from the bar. He approached and found the sensation got stronger as he got nearer to the bar. It had him on edge, what was causing it?

  
"Fancy meeting you here, how did things go in Noblecourt?" Primrose motioned for him to take up the empty seat next to her. As he walked in he scanned the room, trying to pinpoint where the strange feeling was coming from.

  
"Well, got what I went there for, but let's just say I don't think any of us should be going back-" he paused, he had spotted Olberic sitting at one of the tables. He was in the company of a fierce looking woman in hunter's furs, but that wasn't what got his attention. No, what got his attention were the MASSIVE dire wolf and snow leopard just, laying next to and under the table like they _weren't_ wild animals. "Well, that's different. Who's that over there with Olberic?"

  
"That would be H'aanit, we met her in the Woodlands not far from S'warkii. Actually, there's someone else you should meet too." She turned to a woman dressed in white clerical robes seated next to her. "Ophilia? This is Therion. Therion, meet Sister Ophilia."

  
When the cleric turned towards him he spotted the lantern at her waist, housing a brilliant blue-white flame. Something deep within him recoiled from it, from the light it gave off. Ophilia gave him a warm smile.

  
"It's good to meet you, I heard from Primrose how you helped her in Sunshade. You sound very noble."

  
He pulled up on his scarf, like that would somehow shield him from the flame. He couldn't just run for it, it would be too suspicious. The tavern door chimed open as Alfyn arrived. He waved to Olberic, paused for a moment at the sight of the animals, then shrugged it off and walked over to the bar.

  
"Heya, Prim! Looks like you and Olberic picked up some new friends, hu?" Introductions were made again, and Alfyn and Ophilia began chatting like they were old friends. How does he do that? From the chatter he picked up that Ophilia was on a holy pilgrimage for the church- the Kindling. The flame she carried was the sacred flame of Alferic.

  
Primrose looked between Alfyn and Therion and smirked. "My, that is quite the hickey you have on your neck, Alfyn."

  
The apothecary stuttered. "H-hickey?! What do you-" His eyes went wide and he moved to adjust his shirt collar.

  
Gods, had he been walking around with that showing all day? Therion sunk into his scarf.

  
"It's good to know you boys have been getting along."

  
Alright, if he needed an excuse to get out of here this was good enough. Therion stood and made way for the door. He could find something at the inn, or get something from a street vendor.

  
"Th-Therion! Hey, wait-" Alfyn ran to catch up with him outside. "Shucks I'm sorry, I treated the wound but I didn't think about wrappin' it up, I'm startin' to run low on bandages and figured it'd be okay and wasn't thinkin'-"

  
"You're fine, Alfyn." It was embarrassing, especially since Primrose thought it was a hickey, but considering how things had gone she wasn't exactly far off. "I just, needed to get out of there."

  
"What's wrong? Did someone say somethin'?"

  
"No, no it's... that lantern the cleric had. Being near it feels wrong." It just figured, really, as if he didn't already know he was an unholy abomination. His reaction to the sacred flame just rubbed it in.

  
"Oh? Ooooh, because of- shucks I'm sorry."

  
"Why? Not like any of us can do anything about it."

  
The two of them turned a corner and nearly collided with a familiar young merchant. Tressa looked alarmed, but determined.

  
"Sorry, guys, I gotta go-" She started to run off again and Therion grabbed her arm to stop her.

  
"Whoa, okay, where's the fire?" Something had to have happened. And from the look on her face he couldn't help but think she was trying to rush right into whatever situation she had found herself in.

  
Tressa grumbled and yanked her arm back. "There's no time, I gotta-"

  
"Hey, easy there, deep breaths. Did something happen? If you tell us maybe we can help." Alfyn was using his gentle tone, and that seemed to be enough to calm Tressa down.

  
She took a couple deep breaths, but still spoke with urgency. "Okay. So. That guy who owns the gold mines around here, he accused me and Ali of selling our skystones illegally! The jerk had his body guard beat Ali up and they dragged him away and-"

  
"Ali? Was that the merchant you were glaring at earlier? Why do you suddenly care, doesn't this just mean less competition for you?" That earned him a small growl from the young merchant, what? Was he wrong?

  
"That might be how thieves work, but not honest merchants! We didn't do anything wrong, and that jerk Morlock has been taking advantage of the people of this town long enough!" Tressa marched off again at speed. Therion huffed and followed, the kid's heart was in the right place but going into this alone sounded like a death sentence.

  
"Whoa, hey, wait up!" Alfyn ran after them. "Just what are you plannin' to do, Tress?"

  
"We're gonna get Ali back, that's what!"

  
"Hm, I think I see what's going on here. Off to save your boyfriend, hu?" Therion smirked into his scarf, payback time.

  
"Wh- **_BOYFRIEND?_** He's not- I just met him yesterday! And he's a jerk! He teases me and calls me a green-pea!"

  
"Aw, he already has a little pet name for you?" Therion laughed as Tressa made a frustrated sound and ran ahead. Too easy.

 

Therion and Alfyn followed Tressa to a large mansion located just outside of town. Security was lax, compared to Therion's more recent heists, he still made the group stop before they got too close.

  
"Alright, do you have a plan here? Looks like we have our choice of entrances, but I take it you two don't have much experience quietly climbing in through windows."

  
Tressa shook her head, "we don't have to break in. Morlock... kinda invited me to stop by? He wanted to offer me a job but no way am I working for such a sleazy no-good-"

  
Alfyn put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's okay, let's go get your friend back."

  
"...not my friend." Tressa grumbled before turning away and marching up to the manse.

 

A dense dust hung in the air inside, a product of the environment the mansion was located in. Trying to keep the place clean had to be a nightmare, and it didn't look like the owner wanted to go through the trouble. It made Orlick's place feel clean and lived in, empty as the halls were. There were even bats living in the rafters. Even so, if this guy was wealthy enough to own the mines around here then surely there was something worthwhile here. As they traveled further in, down winding hallways and poking into empty rooms, Therion did find the occasional hidden cache. A trinket here, a stash of coins there. He was pretty sure Tressa saw him pocket something on a few occasions, but she didn't say anything.

  
The sound of gloating echoing down the halls was their first clue they were getting close. When they arrived they found a man draped in expensive-looking robes (and wearing more jewelry than could ever be considered necessary or fashionable), that had to be Morlock, talking and laughing with a tall, heavily armored mercenary. The Sunlands merchant from earlier was bound, rope pinning his arms to his sides, to the leg of a table off to the side of the room. He looked dazed, like he was just coming to. (Faint smell of blood, he was injured.)

  
There was a tense stare-down. Morlock offered Tressa a large sum to work for him, which she immediately turned down.

  
"Everybody has their price, girl. What of your friends there-" The gaudy man eyed Alfyn and Therion, his eyes lingering on the apothecary's satchel and the bangle around Therion's wrist. "I could pay you both handsomely. There's always good leaves to be made as a privately housed apothecary. And I don't know what they're paying _you_ but I promise you I can double it."

  
"There ain't any price that would make me turn on my friends!" Alfyn gripped his satchel close, Therion saw that his hand was shaking.

  
He reached over, placing a hand on the side of Alfyn's arm. Tense as the situation was he didn't need his temper to get the better of him right now. Normally, he might be tempted to agree with the man. Everyone has a price, good enough deal and who's to say your best friend won't stab you in the back. (Draw a dagger across your face, push you over a cliff.) "Think I'll give that a hard pass."

  
Morlock frowned, turning instead to Ali. "Well surely you would- wait..." He paused, scrutinizing his captive. "I recognize you, you're Maruf's whelp. Infamous con man of the Sunlands who lost everything to his own so-called friend. Pah, it'll be worth more to just sell you off than having you work for me." He turned back to the rest of the group as Ali tried to argue back. "Might as well sell all of you off, get something from all this trouble. Take care of this, Omar."

  
The mercenary nodded and hefted his ax, seemed the time for talking was over. Even though he was heavily armored, the man moved fast. Therion dived, shoving Tressa from the path of the side of the blade. They wanted to take them alive, so instead of chopping the mercenary was trying to bludgeon them with the side of his ax.

  
There was the clashing of metal and he looked back to see Alfyn parrying Omar's second attack. The mercenary shoved, causing Alfyn to stumble back. Therion cursed and rushed in, dagger in hand. If they got out of this he was going to drag Alfyn to Olberic's morning practices- he needed to learn how to fight properly with all the trouble their group seemed to find.

  
Omar reacted quickly, Therion was nearly on top of him when he spun around towards him. It was faster than he was expecting (stupid, underestimating his opponent) and the side of the ax struck him, knocking him to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, reaching for his sword. Omar was bearing down on him, his head was still ringing from the impact, he needed to be quick-

  
A powerful blast of wind blew the large man over, he swore as he struggled to get back on his feet. His armor trapped him on the floor like an overturned turtle.

Alfyn gave a shout and pounced, wrestling the mercenary's ax away from him. Idiot was going to get himself hurt!

  
Idiot or no, in the end Alfyn stood, triumphant, pointing the mercenary's own ax at him. Well, he supposed that was the bodyguard out of the way. Therion turned his attention towards Morlock, weapons still poised to attack. (The man's heart was racing, coward. All talk and no bite.)

  
He held his hands up in the air, "I surrender, I surrender! Call off your men!"

  
"They're not working for me, they're my friends." Tressa stepped forward, her spear held casually at her side. Therion kept himself ready to strike, glaring at Morlock from behind Tressa. "Now, you better let Ali go! And apologize, too!"

  
"Yes, yes of course, I'm sorry!" Morlock rushed over and began untying the ropes.

 

It was easily one of the strangest things Therion had ever seen go down. Morlock was a total pushover, a coward. Apparently he never expected the power of his wealth- using it to buy protection and pay people off- to actually fail him. It was an embarrassment, really, how easily Tressa was able to command him to not only let her fellow merchant go, but to also apologize and _leave town_.

  
Tressa and Ali walked ahead, chatting as they made their way back into town. Therion half listened in, Ali was talking about some sort of large event going on in Grandport. Still a ways off, but the must-be location for any good merchant.

  
"Would ya look at that, nice to see Tressa made a new friend, hu?" Alfyn had Omar's ax strapped to his back, the mercenary had ran off after Morlock without taking it back. It was a considerable upgrade from the woodcutting ax he had been using up til now.

  
Therion snorted. "Yeah, just don't let her hear you say that." He watched the two young merchants for a moment, Ali laughed as Tressa shoved him. "As hilarious as it is to see you throw skeletons and tackle mercenaries, I think we should get you some proper combat training."

  
"Hm, maybe. Wait you, you saw me throw-" His voice dropped, "you really were still in there, hu?"

  
Therion gave a small nod, "anyway, say good-bye to sleeping in. Olberic likes to start bright and early."


	13. Morning Training

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short and fluffy in between as the travelers plan out where to go next.
> 
> (Consider this a palette cleanser for What Could Have Been, too. I know I needed something cute and silly after all that x_x)

"Wake up, medicine man. Olberic's waiting for us."

  
Alfyn groaned, burying his face into his pillow and curling up under the blankets. The two of them had opted to share the bed again like they had in Flamesgrace. As much as Alfyn insisted he did fine sleeping on the floor, Therion could tell he never woke up fully rested when he did. He had woken to find himself wrapped in the apothecary's arms again that morning. Frankly he didn't want to get up either, cozy as it was.

  
"Jus' ten more minutes..."

  
"Oh no, I gave you ten minutes yesterday and you slept in the next hour." He gave the other man a shove, not realizing how close Alfyn had been to the edge of the bed.

  
Alfyn yelped, rolling over the side of the bed with Therion still clung in his arms. There was a resounding thud as they hit the floor, it was enough to startle Cyrus awake. The scholar shot up, his normally well-kept hair disheveled from sleep, and dazedly stared at the pair of them tangled in their blanket on the floor.

  
"...ow." Alfyn released Therion, rubbing the back of his head. "Okay. You win. I'll get up."

  
Therion groaned. It didn't feel like a victory.

  
Cyrus sighed, shook his head, and went back to bed.

 

They found Olberic alongside H'aanit, the huntress he had Primrose had picked up on their travels, doing stretches in the empty market square. Therion spotted the snow leopard and dire wolf not far off, curled up and sleeping together in the morning sun. It turned out that Olberic did not have much experience in wielding axes, so he had enlisted the huntress to help train Alfyn. As the morning dragged on a few townspeople gathered to watch, as did their travel companions as they woke up. Cyrus studied their moves and form carefully, while Tressa payed more attention to the animals that seemed to be H'aanit's companions.

  
Therion was sparring with Olberic when the horrible feeling, the feeling the holy flame had given him the other day, returned. He lost focus, faltered, and found himself knocked back by the experienced knight. He heard Ophilia let out a small gasp.

  
"It is not like you to drop your guard." Olberic offered him a hand back up.

  
Therion accepted the hand up and dusted himself off. "Won't happen again, where were we?"

  
He did his best to ignore how the proximity to Ophilia's sacred lantern made his skin crawl. She was going to be traveling with them now, he was going to have to get used to it. He got knocked down again and again, dusting himself and charging back in after each failure. Eventually Olberic stopped him.

  
"You are getting frustrated, take a moment to breath."

  
Therion grumbled and lowered his sword.

  
"Phew, hey, it looks like everyone's up- maybe we could stop and have breakfast?" Alfyn called over.

  
"Thatten woulde be wise." H'aanit gave Alfyn a pat on the back, making him stumble. "Thoust diden well."

  
Alfyn fell into step besides him as they made their way back towards the inn. "You holdin' up okay? Any scrapes or bruises?"

  
"Just my pride." Therion eyed the others and tugged up on his scarf. It was a lie, he was pretty sure he had several bruises from his sparring match. It wasn't a big deal, he healed fast after all. "How'd things go with you and the wild lady?"

  
Alfyn groaned, "feels like my arms are gonna fall off. That new axe is a lot heavier than what I'm used to."

 

Therion wasn't sure how he had gone from traveling alone to having a whopping seven travel companions (plus the animals), but here he was. It was a lot more lively than he was used to.

  
"...Alfyn, diden thoust feeden Hagen from thou's plate?" Hagan, the dire wolf in question, had his head resting on the table as he stared at Alfyn. A puddle of drool was forming.

  
"Uh, well- maybe? I couldn't help it- look at that face! H-hey!" Hagen snuck a sausage from Alfyn's plate and ducked away. Betrayal. H'aanit shook her head as the others started laughing.

  
As the laughter died down the group chatter picked back up. "So, H'aanit, I hear you are headed for Stoneguard? It so happens I wish to visit there myself, I do believe it may be the location in which the abridged version of _From the Far Reaches of Hell_ was bound."

  
"Aye, twas thee lasten place mine master twas seene."

  
Hagan returned and Alfyn shielded his plate with his arm. "Ophilia, you said that you needed to get to Saintsbridge, right? That ain't too far, maybe a couple days from Clearbrook."

  
"Yes, the cathedral there is my first stop for the Kindling." Ophilia reached over and scratched Hagan behind the ears. The wolf's ear flicked, but he kept focused on Alfyn's plate.

  
"Ah, since we shall be passing through the Riverlands on the way to Stoneguard then it would be logical to stop in Saintsbridge while we are in the area."

  
Hagan shook his head, sending slobber flying. Alfyn moved to shield his face and the wolf took the opportunity to snatch his biscuit too.

  
"Hagan! Stoppen that, what wouldst Z'aanta sayen?" The wolf whined and wuffed. "Doen not taken thaten tone withen me. Thoust knowens better."

  
Therion chuckled and pushed his plate towards Alfyn. He was already full, anyway. "What, did nobody ever warn you that if you feed a stray they'll never leave you alone?"

  
"You say that like it's a bad thing." He speared a sausage from Therion's plate and took a bite. "Heh, hope that means you'll be stickin' around with us."

  
Therion's face heated up and he heard Primrose snickering. He snorted and gave Alfyn a soft shove, which just made the other man laugh.

 

They packed up and set out for Saintsbridge by midday. It was slower going with so many of them, but also safer. Fewer monsters tried to ambush the group, aside from the more aggressive ones and those smart enough to organize larger groups. H'aanit's wilderness skills proved a blessing, especially when they had to stop to make camp.

  
Therion was sitting up for his watch. They had just managed to reach the outskirts of the Riverlands. There were footsteps and Alfyn plopped onto the ground next to him.

  
"How ya been holdin' up? You seemed a bit grouchier today when we were walkin'."

  
He probably had been. It had been a few days since he had fed but that wasn't too much of a problem. At this point the sunlight was annoying, but not unbearable. The same could not be said of that damned lantern though, even now it had him feeling on edge. (It was like the voice was whining, it hurt! It hurt!) "It's fine." He looked back at the rest of the group. Aside from Tressa scribbling away in her journal and Cyrus reading over that book he had found the others looked to be asleep.

  
Therion sighed and leaned back on his hands. "...been a few days. Sun starts to get to me."

  
"O-oh." He heard Alfyn's pulse pick up. "Do you need to...?"

  
"Nah, can wait a few days." He glanced over at Alfyn, letting his scarf drop as he smiled. "Besides, I promised I'd buy you dinner first, didn't I?"

  
That sent the apothecary's heart truly racing and Therion chuckled to himself. "Heh, guess you did." He paused to rub the back of his neck. "Shucks, it's really somethin' to see ya smile, Theri. Too bad ya gotta cover up with that scarf all the time."

  
"You think so, hu?" Damn it all if he didn't feel himself going flush, with any luck it was too dark to see. He shifted and leaned closer. (Alfyn's heart was beating so fast, he really liked that he was making it do that.) "Well, guess you should enjoy it while you can."

  
"Y-yeah? Heh, guess I should." He could swear that if he looked hard enough he could see smoke rising from Alfyn's ears. (His heart was beating so fast, closer, get closer.)

  
Screw it, it wasn't like he had anything to lose.

  
Therion leaned forward, planting a quick kiss to Alfyn's cheek. The apothecary's eyes went wide.

  
"Heh, too much?" He began to move back when he felt warm arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him forward.

  
He hummed as he felt Alfyn's lips press to his, melted into those warm arms as their lips parted and the kiss deepened. It was brief, and before he knew it Alfyn had pulled away again. He let his head drop onto Alfyn's shoulder, taking a moment to just feel the beat of his pulse.

  
(He wouldn't mind, if he just took a small bite. He had offered...was going to offer.)

  
He felt Alfyn plant another kiss to the top of his head. "Sh-shucks. I don't know what t' say... heh, I like you too." This was dangerous, getting attached. (But being close felt so good, so safe.) "Should probably stop distractin' ya and let ya keep watch, see ya in the morning?"

  
"Hmm, yeah. Bright and early, medicine man."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna admit. I was not expecting them to kiss. It just kinda happened.


	14. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue me remembering Alfyn likes puns. That said...
> 
> *slams chapter down, flees into the night*

Therion never really thought he would ever find himself traveling this far into the Riverlands again. Every now and again old memories would drift up. Hunting for items washed up on the riverbanks, figuring out what wild berries were safe to eat through trial and error. Nights huddled together in the undergrowth, trying to stay warm without a fire. Anything they could do to survive until they found a new city full of fresh marks, better opportunities.

  
Neither him or Darius would have gotten very far alone. They really only had each other back then.

  
The burning sensation of the sacred flame came closer, snapping him out of his thoughts.

  
"Hello, Therion. I couldn't help but notice, you seem lost in thought. Is there something on your mind?"

  
"Nothing that concerns you." He couldn't help but bristle around the cleric. It wasn't fair to her, but the lantern just hurt worse and worse by the day.

  
"I see..." Ophilia continued to walk in pace next to him. "I also couldn't help but notice, you don't seem to like me much?"

  
Oh, was that what this was about? "It's...nothing personal. Guess you can say I don't mix well with holy types."

  
"Well, allow me to apologize for any past mistreatment you have had from the church. I assure you, Aelfric looks over you- even if his priests do not always reflect his love."

  
Yeah, he had some serious doubts there. On multiple levels. "Great, I'll keep that in mind. Are we done here?" He picked up his pace, trying to distance himself from the lantern.

  
Ophilia went to follow and he heard Tressa call to get her attention. (Thank whatever gods did care about him, if any.) He owed her one for this, and knowing Tressa she would likely hold him to it too. Alfyn, meanwhile, spotted something off the trail and wandered off into the bushes, as he often did.

  
There was a soft rustling, and Therion's eyes went wide as the faint smell of blood hit him. (Not much, but as sensitive as he was getting it felt so clear.) Hand on the hilt of his dagger, he rushed over. "Alfyn, are you-"

  
"Oh! Hey, Theri!" Aflyn had a cloth laid out which he was gradually filling up with blackberries. He had his arms tangled in the briars, scratches on his arms from brushing against the thorns. "Check it out! There's a huge patch of blackberries here, should be a real treat for everyone! You okay? You kinda look like ya saw a ghost."

  
Therion let out a deep breath. He kept his voice low. "I smelled blood, thought something got you."

  
"You smelled...?" Alfyn looked over at his scratched up arms. "Shucks, that's one helluva sniffer you got. Heh, thanks for checking on me- say you wanna give me a hand with this?"

  
"Sure, hang on," he pulled out a pair of gloves from his mantel, slipping them on. His dexterous fingers were well suited for plucking the berries while not snagging every thorn in his path. Gods, couldn't Alfyn at least try to avoid them? "You're driving me crazy right now, you know that?"

  
"Hm?" Alfyn looked over at him, cheeks bulging. Purple juice surrounded his mouth.

  
Therion snorted, dropping more berries onto the cloth. "Case in point. Thought we were picking these for everyone?"

  
"We are-" Alfyn swallowed and smiled bright, "but no rule sayin' we can't help ourselves too!"

  
"Heh, fair enough." He tugged down his scarf to pop a berry in his mouth before going back to picking. By the time they returned to the group they had managed to gather a hefty bundle of berries. Both Alfyn and Therion's fingers had been stained purple, Alfyn still had juice all over his face.

  
Primrose gave them a sly, knowing smile as they emerged from the woods. "My, you two were gone quite a while."

  
Alfyn laughed, holding up his stained hands. "Guess you caught us red handed!" Oh gods that was bad, but Therion found himself smiling anyway. "Looks like we've found ourselves in a sticky situation!"

  
The thief groaned and walked ahead, setting down the bundle at the center of where the group had gathered. "Yeah, how dastardly, we picked some berries."

  
"Maybe you picked berries but Alfyn looks like he wrestled the entire bush!" Tressa rushed over, grabbing a handful.

  
"Because he did." He crossed his arms, looking back over at the apothecary. "Funny, I'd think you'd know how to not stab yourself on every damn thorn."

  
"Heh, well, I think the reward is worth it. All th' best berries are buried behind them."

 

After a few days on the road they at last found themselves on the outskirts of Saintsbridge. A large church peeked over the top of the town's buildings and surrounding trees. Nestled right on the river, the city was partly named for the large bridges which connected the various sections together. It was getting late in the day, the sky taking on a myriad of oranges, pinks, and purples as the sun set. They made for the inn, the Kindling would have to wait for tomorrow. Most of the group was excited to attend the ceremony- after all the pilgrimage only took place once every twenty years.

  
Therion and Tressa were going over the group's budget, trying to figure out sleeping arrangements.

  
"Alright, looks like we've managed to build up some considerable funds!" Yep, special thanks to Morlock's poorly hidden treasures. "We can afford four doubles, so everyone can actually have a bed to sleep in."

  
"You can make that three doubles and a single. Alfyn and I can share, saves us some leaves."

  
Tressa giggled. "Riiight, saving some leaves, that's aaaaall that this is about. You know I _saw_ you guys the other night, right?"

  
Therion grumbled and tugged up on his scarf. Oh, right, that's what he had to lose. His dignity.

  
"Hope you're not trying to keep it secret, because you two have not been subtle. Like, at all. Even Cyrus noticed!" She scribbled in the ledger, recalculating the room prices.

  
"Okay, bullshit. There's no way the professor noticed, he couldn't even tell his own student was coming on to him."

  
"That's not what he said when he was convincing me to buy you pig's blood." Tressa paused to start counting out coins. "Alfyn was so worried he didn't even touch his dinner, didn't want to sleep either."

  
"...Alfyn's a pretty soft guy. He'd be that upset if any of us got hurt." It was evident enough in the way he fussed over everyone in the party, tending to injuries and sore muscles. Hell, he even heard him lecturing Olberic about pushing himself too hard while training. (While giving the knight a back rub, no less. He had felt a twinge of jealousy at the time.)

  
"Hm, maybe. That's three doubles and a single- I'll go get the keys."

 

He found Alfyn waiting outside the inn, petting the snow leopard. For such a large cat its purrs were very quiet.

  
"Gosh, Linde is so soft! Heh, feels like I'm gonna lose my hand in all this fur." He stopped and Linde pressed her nose back into his hand.

  
"Aye, it keepens her warm in her homeland." H'aanit was busy brushing burrs and sticks from the animals' coats.

  
Therion leaned in next to Alfyn, dangling the key by his head. "Hey, got us a room. What do you say we hit up the tavern, my treat."

  
"Sounds great!" Alfyn pried himself away from Linde, who chuffed before turning her attention fully to H'aanit. Alfyn waved to the others and they set out.

  
"So, you're from the Riverlands, you been here before?"

  
Therion tucked the key safely away in his mantel. "...might have stopped by. Was a long time ago, though." Long enough that he shouldn't have to worry about anyone recognizing him. Hopefully. He wasn't as good at avoiding being caught back then, there was a lot of evading angry guards.

  
"But not where you're from, hu?" Alfyn stretched and rested his hands behind his head.

  
"Nope." He could only wish, it was a pretty nice town. Clean river, fresh air, the large church to support the many townspeople. If he had grown up here maybe the church would have taken him in. And that was a funny thought, because what would he be then? A _priest_?

  
"You ever gonna tell me where you are from?" Alfyn held the tavern door open for him as they arrived at their destination.

  
Therion considered as they found a seat. "I guess, if you really gotta know, Riverford."

  
"Shucks, really? And you traveled all the way from there to the Cliftlands by yourself?"

 

Not by himself, no. But he didn't want to talk about that, about Darius. "Better than staying there. Riverford was a shit hole, probably still is."

 

"You, really didn't have any friends? Not even one?" Alfyn looked sad at the thought.

  
Therion shook his head. Even before the plague hit, he was never popular with the other kids. "You've seen what I look like, right? The other kids called me a freak and threw rocks at me."

  
Alfyn gasped, "what?! That's awful!"

  
He shrugged. "That was life."

  
"Well, _I_ think you look very handsome. And cute." Alfyn reached over, ruffling his hair. Therion went red and gently swatted him away.

  
"Yeah, well, you'd be the first to think so." That wasn't completely true. He may have had one or two 'employment offers' in the past, people telling him his exotic look would bring in leaves. (People who wouldn't take no for an answer either, it was good he became skilled in evasion early on.) Of course, that was also before he was completely covered in scars.

  
Alright, enough talking about him. Time to shift the conversation. "You're telling me you got along with all the kids you grew up with?"

  
"Okay, maybe not everyone- Gerthas was always a grump! Though, heh, not as bad as you..."

  
Their chatter went on throughout their shared meal. Therion was pretty sure that by the end of his journey he'd know everyone in Clearbrook by name- Alfyn had so much to say about them. He couldn't say it was a bad thing, though. A lot of Alfyn's stories were entertaining, kinda made him wish he had found himself in Clearbrook all those years ago.

  
But, no use thinking about that.

 

By the time they headed back to the inn it had gotten dark. They paused in front of their door as Therion dug in his mantel for the key.

  
Alfyn's heart beat had picked up again.

  
"Heh, I had a real good time chattin' with ya over dinner. Hope I didn't talk you're ear off too bad." He rubbed the back of his neck, nervous habit.

  
"Not at all." The lock clicked and he opened the door, letting Alfyn step in first.

  
Alfyn shrugged off his satchel and vest, then sat on the bed to unlace his boots. "So, heh, been a few days, and it looks like we got a private room..."

  
Therion stepped in, making sure the door was locked before removing his scarf. "We sure do." He draped his scarf and mantel on the back of a chair. "I hear your heart racing, that excited for me to bite you again?"

  
"I- ah-" At that point the apothecary had gone completely red. (Damn it all if he didn't want to just pounce on him now.) "...maybe?"

  
He chuckled and stepped over, looming over Alfyn on the bed. "Well, I guess I shouldn't keep you waiting." He settled into Alfyn's lap, leaning in to press kisses onto his neck. Alfyn took in a sharp breath of air and relaxed against him, leaning back until Therion had him more or less pinned to the bed.

  
Therion trailed kisses up to Alfyn's ear as the apothecary tried to suppress the soft gasps and groans he was making. "We're alone, you know. You can make all the sound you like." He moved back down to his neck, giving a teasing nip. "I want to hear you."

  
He finally bit down and Alfyn shuddered, clinging to him tight. He moaned as Therion began licking and sucking at the wound. He could easily lose himself in this. The sounds, the warmth, his pulse. The taste of him on his tongue. (The voice was purring again, he could get used to this.)

  
"Th-Therion-" Alfyn whined, wiggling under him. He was hard again, just like last time.

  
"Hmmm," He gave the bite one last lick before pressing a kiss to Alfyn's chin. "You want me to help you with that?"

  
The apothecary responded with another whine, tightening the hug he had Therion trapped in. Therion pressed his hips forward, lightly grinding into him. The action earned him a gasp and bit back moan. "Is that a yes?"

  
Alfyn turned his head, meeting Therion's lips and pulling him into a hungry kiss. He felt those large hands start to wander his body, tugging up and slipping under his shirt to trace over his old scars. (It felt so good. Surrounded in his pulse, in his warmth). He allowed his own hands to wander over Alfyn's broad shoulders and firm chest. Pinching at the little ponch he had around his belly. It earned him even more of those delicious little sounds.

  
They parted briefly, removing each other's shirts. Therion licked his lips, taking in the sight. Alfyn was well muscled, softened by a little chub around his middle. He grew more chest hair than Therion ever had, and he experimentally ran his hand through it. Therion leaned back in, trailing soft kisses down Alfyn's body as his hand ventured lower, tugging at his belt.

  
Alfyn sat up as Therion slid out of his lap, sinking to his knees on the floor between the apothecary's legs. At that point Alfyn seemed to realize what he was planning.

  
"W-whoa, are you gonna-" he paused to swallow, and looked ever so slightly worried.

  
Therion paused in his attempts to pull down Alfyn's pants, looking up at him. (The voice growled in frustration. Strange, it had been satisfied- why was it upset?) "Something wrong?"

  
"Is that a good idea? I mean, ah-" Why was he- oh. _Oh._ Right, the teeth.

  
"I wasn't planning on biting your dick off." He leaned on Alfyn's spread legs. "If it makes you that nervous I can try something else."

  
Alfyn made a frustrated noise, biting his lip. He really, really wanted to keep going- but those teeth were so sharp. But, Therion wouldn't hurt him. Not on purpose. "I- we can keep going. I trust ya."

  
Therion nodded and tugged down Alfyn's pants, humming at the sight as the apothecary's cock bobbled free. Alfyn breathed in sharply as he took him in hand, moaning as Therion licked away the moisture that had already accumulated at the tip.

  
He felt Alfyn's hands tangle into his hair as he took him into his mouth. (The voice was purring again, it sounded so loud.) He took him about halfway, caressing him with his tongue, before pulling back and adjusting his angle. Those wonderful sounds were back, louder, as he teased with his tongue and lips. (Every now and again he would feel his teeth graze against him, making the apothecary tense and groan louder.) Alfyn's hands gently guided him as he drew him back into his mouth again, sinking him slowly down to the hilt. Therion swallowed around him, and gods- with any luck the inn walls weren't too thin.

  
Therion's hands wandered as he worked, exploring Alfyn's legs, traveling up his torso and chest. He pushed the apothecary to lean back a bit, adjusting him as he dipped down to fondle his sack, slide his fingers further back. Alfyn gasped loud as he prodded at his entrance and slid a finger in.

  
He pulled back, taking Alfyn in his free hand. "Gods," He rested his head in Alfyn's lap, gently seeking for that sensitive spot with his finger. "I want to fuck you, so bad."

  
Alfyn shuddered, letting out another glorious moan. "O-okay, but-" His breath hitched as Therion slid a second finger in. "O-okay, wait-" He pushed, gently, on his shoulders. Therion pulled his hand back as Alfyn tried to catch his breath. (Crap, did he push him too far?)

  
"If we're gonna do this- there's some oil in my satchel. Hang on, I'll get it."

  
He moved aside, allowing Alfyn to get up. (There was a feeling of disappointment, leaving the warmth.) He was a little wobbly on his feet, but he struggled out of his pants before walking over to dig through his satchel.

  
He returned quickly, bottle in hand, sitting back on the edge of the bed as he handed it to Therion. "Heh, mighta been a bit suspicious if I couldn't walk tomorrow."

  
Therion nodded, standing and leaning over where Alfyn was seated. "Right, now where were we?" He popped open the bottle, tipping a generous amount of oil onto his fingers.

  
Alfyn leaned up, catching his lips for another kiss as Therion resumed stretching him out. He felt his legs crossing behind his back, holding him close as he clung tight to his shoulders. The sounds Alfyn made resonated into his mouth, Therion heard himself growling back. He tugged desperately at his own belt with his free hand, he'd been achingly hard in his pants for too long.

  
At last he was able to remove his pants, he pulled back as the two of them gasped for breath. He hummed, pressing to that sensitive spot again- the apothecary now stretched around three of his fingers. "You ready for me?"

  
Alfyn nodded, and he slipped out his hand. Therion reached for the oil again, slicking himself up. He pressed in carefully, hissing as he slipped inside. Alfyn clung tightly to him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him down.

  
Therion rumbled as he began thrusting, easing himself in painfully slow. (It almost sounded like, no, he wasn't purring. No way.) Alfyn gasped, babbling nonsense as he sank further and further in, pace getting faster.

  
Alfyn shouted as Therion growled, biting into his shoulder. He felt him tense around him then relax as he let out a loud moan. The feeling of his pulse was all around him, he felt completely immersed. He licked at and kissed the new bite wound, making more of those rumbling most-definitely-not-purring noises.

  
"Therion, Therion I'm-" Alfyn whined, shuddering as he came hard between them. He felt him tense tight around him, pulling Therion over the edge. They laid together, breathing heavily, he listened as Alfyn's heartbeat started to calm.

  
The apothecary started giggling, and Therion gave him a baffled look. "Okay...what's so funny?"

  
Alfyn was still steadying his breaths. "Heh, I just, realized somethin'. You really are a master thief, you _stole my virginity_." He winked at him, giggling harder. Therion groaned and lightly hit him in the shoulder. Awful. Terrible.

  
He never wanted to let go.


	15. Charity and Sacrifice

A loud series of knocks jolted Therion awake the following morning. He groaned, pressing his face into Alfyn's bare chest. The room was already fairly bright from the sunlight coming in through the window, just what time was it anyway?

  
A voice carried through from the other side of the door. "Alfyn! Therion!" Sounded like Tressa. "Hey, you guys better get up if you want breakfast!"

 

When the two of them had finally gotten dressed and made their way down, the rest of the group were already halfway into their meals. Primrose spotted them and waved them over, that wicked smile of hers plastered on her face. Therion eyed her suspiciously as they made their way over to the table, Alfyn winced slightly as they took their seats.

  
She waited until Therion was taking a sip of water to say anything. "Well, it sure sounded like you two had fun last night."

  
Therion choked on his drink.

  
Primrose leaned in closer to continue, "Really, I'm surprised poor Alfyn is up and walking. From what I heard you were pretty rough with him..."

  
He tried to school his expression even as he felt heat rushing to his face. Alfyn chuckled nervously to his side and he eyed the rest of the table. Nobody else seemed to be paying them any mind at the moment. (The Professor was talking to H'aanit, something about animal behaviors. Tressa was asking Olberic what Victor's Hollow was like.) Except... Ophilia was just as red, if not more so, as he and Alfyn were. She was trying to look away, but every now and again would glance in their direction.

  
Of course Primrose wasn't the only one who heard. Great. But also, kinda hilarious- the cleric looked absolutely scandalized. (Now if only it wasn't at his expense.)

  
Primrose sat back in her seat, snickering. "So, are you boys excited to see the Kindling? The chapel here is rather lovely, even the weakened flame is breathtaking."

  
"Shucks," Alfyn reached to put food on his plate, "such a big event- feel like I might be under dressed for it!"

  
Ophilia shook her head, "O-Oh, not at all! The church is very welcoming- people are free to attend dressed to their comfort."

  
"Not to mention they let me enter in my dancer's dress- you should be fine, Alfyn." Primrose looked expectantly at Therion.

  
Therion prodded at his eggs and shook his head. "I'm gonna have to pass." He saw Ophilia's gaze drop to the floor. He felt bad, but there wasn't anything that could be done. Even well fed the lantern made his skin burn- he didn't even want to think what it would be like to be around a larger flame.

  
"If that is what you wish, but, do know you would be most welcome. If you change your mind." Ophilia stood and addressed the entire table, "I must go get ready for the ceremony, I shall see most of you soon!"

  
She hurried off, and Therion noticed Primrose was giving him a look again. "I don't understand what you have against the poor girl. You've been so cold to her."

  
What sort of explanation could he give? He didn't have anything against her personally, hell he hadn't really taken the time to know her either. Every time she got close to him he could only focus on the lantern, the pain and discomfort it caused. As a result their conversations had been brief, almost always ending with Therion storming off. "It's just, best I don't go."

 

Therion and Alfyn were the last to leave the inn, the others having already headed out for the ceremony. The wind picked up and Therion paused- he could smell blood. (Old blood, festering. Infected. No good.) The smell got stronger as they made their way up the path, drawing closer to an old hunting cottage near the edge of town.

  
There were a couple people ahead. A red-haired man kneeling on the ground, holding his side while trying not to show pain on his face. He had to have collapsed there sometime during the morning; judging by the smell the wound was old. The other was an older man with dark hair, an apothecary's satchel worn over his shoulder. (Good, the guy was getting help, Alfyn could still attend the ceremony.)

  
As they drew nearer the other apothecary shook his head and began to walk away, they caught the end of the conversation.

  
"...your life is not worth saving." Oh, right, most apothecaries weren't like Alfyn. Still, talk about harsh.

  
Alfyn bristled and ran forward, confronting the older man. "Hey, whoa, hang on now- what's going on here? How can you call yourself an apothecary while leaving a man to die?"

  
The older apothecary scoffed, looking Alfyn over. "I'm a free man, who I do or do not treat is my business. You look new to this so I'll tell you now- who you choose to save has an impact on the world." He paused, eyeing Therion as the thief approached. His eyes lingered on the bangle. The man grunted and turned to walk away. "Some lives are not worth saving, best you learn that now." He marched away, ignoring Alfyn's attempts to get back his attention.

  
Alfyn grumbled and turned his focus to the injured man. "The nerve of that guy- here, I ain't about to leave ya to die on the side of the road. Therion, can you give me a hand?" Alfyn maneuvered the man's arm over his shoulder, doing his best to support him without disturbing the injury further. "There we go, easy now. What's your name, stranger?"

  
"Gods bless ye. Name's Miguel." Alfyn got Miguel to his feet and the man winced, wavering.

  
Therion came in on his other side to offer further support. The man stank of blood, and he couldn't help but noticed there was a lot more on him that what could have come from his wound. The glint of metal from a (poorly hidden) dagger. Guy had clearly gotten himself into some sort of trouble, the question was where and how.

  
"Well, Miguel, you just hang tight. We're gonna take care of ya." They made way for the hunting lodge where Alfyn set up a makeshift infirmary. Eventually they had Miguel laying on a bedroll and Alfyn was at last able to check the condition of his wound.

  
"You can fix me up, right, doc?" The man looked worried at Alfyn's expression.

  
"I'll be honest with ya- it's pretty bad." He set to work cleaning the wound, "I'll do my best, with any luck you'll last the night."

  
Therion stood by as Alfyn worked late into the day, sometimes fetching him things he needed. Herbs, bandages, clean water- he even enlisted his fire magic to sterilize his pocket knife. (Some of the flesh was so rotten, it just needed to come out.)

  
"Phew, okay, that should do for now- but you ain't outta the woods yet. Best you rest." Alfyn sat back, wiping his hands clean on a cloth. His stomach growled- goodness how late had it gotten? "Think we all deserve some lunch- any requests?"

  
Miguel chuckled. "A stiff drink would do me wonders about now." Therion couldn't blame him, he'd want one too in that condition.

  
Alfyn shook his head. "Sorry to say, but not in your condition. But hey, we can share a mug once you recover." He stood, stretching his stiff legs. "Hey, Therion, you mind keepin' an eye on him? Wanna make sure his condition doesn't get worse."

  
Therion shrugged from where he stood, leaning against the wall. "Sure, not doing anything else." He watched Alfyn go, and got ready to settle in for the dull job of babysitter as the other guy took a much needed nap.

  
Miguel chuckled. "Funny, seein' a tea leaf play nurse. Ain't never seen anything like that."

  
The words struck him like a knife, only one other person had ever called him that. (Don't think about him, the accent was similar but this guy wasn't Darius.) "Don't think you're in a position to be complaining."

  
The injured man kept laughing until he winced, groaning in pain. "Nah- one helluva lucky break though. Judgin' by that bangle on your wrist, ye know how hard it is for guys like us t' get patched up. No questions asked."

  
He did. There wasn't any denying that.

  
Some time passed, and he thought Miguel had fallen asleep. And maybe he had, for a short while. The man let out another pained groan as he stirred. "Gotta ask, how ye trick that mollycoddle into workin' with ye anyway? Or, heh, is it th' other way around? Does our little apothecary friend 'ave a pet tea leaf?" He started up with that damned chuckle again. "That thing on your wrist your _leash and collar_?"

  
Therion lowered a glare at him. He was starting to like the guy less and less. The look just made Miguel start laughing harder, which made Therion bristle more. He moved to cross his arms and the clatter of the chain on the fool's bangle echoed loud in his ears. "Didn't have to trick him, he does what he wants and that just happens to be helping people. Even assholes like you."

  
"Heh, so ye decided t' stick around. Take advantage. And now you're his faithful little puppy." Yeah, he absolutely hated this guy. Okay, maybe he only started traveling with him because it was convenient. And... okay maybe, maybe he had gotten attached.

  
But he wasn't just using Alfyn. Was he? (Gods if he was he'd be no better than-)

  
"Dangerous game yer playin', for our line of work." Miguel closed his eyes, dozing off again, leaving Therion to stew in his thoughts.

 

By the time Alfyn returned Miguel was awake again, he tried to smile and give a casual wave but it was clear he was trying (and failing) to hide his pain. Alfyn passed off the basket of fruits he had brought back to Therion before moving to check up on his patient.

  
"Does it still hurt?" He checked the condition of the wound and tsked, "worse than I thought. I've got some stronger medicine, hang on."

  
He started to dig in his satchel then paused, thinking. "Heard some... interestin' things while in town, Miguel. That you're a thief, and that... that you killed a man in his own home." He turned around, locking eyes with the injured man. "Before I treat ya, I want you to be honest with me. Is what I heard true?"

  
Miguel paled for a moment, worried. "Y-yeah, but! Hear me out- I've got three mouths t' feed back home, an' what's an ol' merc like me supposed t' do? Ain't no wars bein' fought, never been good at anythin' else... ran into a spot o' trouble but honest t' gods I never meant t' kill th' guy. Jus' tryin' t' get away with th' rest o' me skin..."

  
Alfyn looked contemplative. "...alright. Here's what's gonna happen." He pulled out jars and tools from his satchel. "As of now, you're a new man. Think of this as a fresh start to get your life back on track. No more thievin', no more murders."

  
"Y-yes, yes of course!" Miguel winced as Alfyn adjusted him to better access his wound. "Ye got m' word, as of t'day it's nothin' but the straight and narrow for Miguel Twinspears!"

  
Therion turned a plum over in his hand, still thinking. Alfyn was, he was a good guy. A heart of gold. Optimistic and caring and... what did Therion have to offer in exchange? He watched the apothecary work, Alfyn deserved better than some thief. (Than a bloodsucking monster.)

  
Alfyn's voice snapped him out of the downward spiral. "Say, Therion? Could ya come here a second, I could use an extra pair of hands." He walked over and the apothecary gave him a bright, thankful smile. "Gotta thank ya for all your help today, it means a lot." He leaned over, giving Therion a quick peck on the cheek before putting him to work passing over tools and salve again.

  
He felt his face go red and didn't miss Miguel smirking at him. Damn it, he just wanted to punch the guy in the face- Alfyn probably wouldn't approve. The doubts still lingered in the back of his mind. Sentimental fool, and here he was in deeper than he'd ever been before. (The voice stirred somewhere, barely there, disapproval. The idea of backing off, of leaving Alfyn, it didn't like it.)

 

Alfyn worked late into the night. At one point Therion sat down for a break and he must have dozed off. The next thing he knew he was waking up, morning light filtering in through the windows. Alfyn was on the floor, surrounded by tools and jars, snoring softly. He must have kept working until he passed out. Miguel was bandaged up, and judging by how peacefully he was sleeping Alfyn's hard work had paid off.

  
Therion stood and stretched, popping out his sore joints. His stomach growled, they been so busy that they had worked straight through dinner. He moved silently for the door, those two needed their sleep but in the meantime he was going to fetch some food. Alfyn was going to be hungry when he got up. (And, he supposed Miguel too... Alfyn would probably be upset if he didn't get something for the bastard.)

  
The smell of baking bread lead Therion to a quaint little bakery, perfect. He headed for the door.

  
An all too familiar voice called after him. "Therion?!" Tressa's bag jingled as she ran over to him. "Where the heck have you and Alfyn been? The two of you disappeared yesterday!"

  
"Found a guy who was pretty badly injured, and you know Alfyn- he wasn't about to just leave him be." A bell chimed as he opened the bakery door, Tressa followed him in. She was watching him closely. "Was up all night in the old hunting lodge making sure the guy didn't croak."

  
"That does sound like Alf. So then what are you doing?"

  
"Getting breakfast." Therion eyed the pastries on display and approached the counter. He switched to a more charming demeanor as he placed his order. Tressa watched the entire exchange like a hawk. Therion handed over then required leaves, the baker passed over the pastries wrapped in cheesecloth. He thanked her, waved, and left the shop.

  
Tressa was dumbfounded. "You, actually **bought** something? What did you take- empty your pockets!"

  
Therion snorted, opening the bundle and rooting inside. "Okay, one, if I emptied my pockets we'd be here all day. Two, nothing. Believe it or not I do, sometimes, just _buy things_." He pulled out a blueberry muffin and held it out to the young merchant. "Here, consider it thanks for keeping Ophilia off my back the other day."

  
She looked between him and the muffin before, eventually, taking the pastry. "Who are you, and what did you do with Therion? I'll let the others know where you guys have been, I guess."

  
The two of them parted ways and Therion headed back to the lodge, pulling out and starting on his own breakfast- an apple fritter. He'd have to remember that bakery was there, stop in again if he ever passed through Saintsbridge again.

  
He opened the door, stepped inside, and paused.

  
Miguel was gone.

  
What the hell? Should the guy even be up and moving right now? **HOW** was the guy up and moving around right now? He suppose that much just spoke volumes about Alfyn's skills- or that idiot's pain tolerance.

  
He walked over, leaning down and nudging Alfyn softly in the shoulder. "Alfyn, hey, wake up." The apothecary stirred and blinked up at him. "Miguel's gone."

  
Alfyn's eyebrows lowered, concern, disappointment, and he sat up. He stared at the empty bedroll, slowly comprehending. "Wha... he's, _shit_ he shouldn't be movin' around. We better go find him-" He began to get up and stopped as a cinnamon roll was held in his face.

  
"I'll see if I can sniff him out, but you need to eat. You worked through dinner, medicine man, don't need you passing out." He handed off the last of the pastries he had bought to Alfyn.

  
"Alright, but I'm gonna join ya in a bit, you hear?"

  
Therion nodded and headed out the door. Alfyn had cleaned Miguel up quite a bit, but he should still be able to smell that wound. (Old blood, but no longer festering.) He began following his nose and came upon a commotion near the inn. There was a woman, distraught and crying, collapsed on the ground. (Didn't smell like she was injured, not physically.) Ophilia was next to her, hand on her shoulder, trying to calm and reassure the woman.

  
Shit, he had a bad feeling about this. He didn't want to get near that lantern, but the blood trail lead in their direction. Therion grumbled and forced himself forward.

  
"...know some kind, strong people. We'll get him back, I promise." Ophilia looked up, eyes going wide as she noticed him draw close. "Oh- Therion! Your timing could not be better. There's, there's been a kidnapping. A man has taken this woman's child hostage, he was last seen fleeing into the woods."

  
Therion frowned, he had a really bad feeling about this. "Don't tell me, this kidnapper. Red hair, covered in bandages, scar over his right eye?"

  
The sobbing woman gasped. "Y-yes, that was the man! You... know him?"

  
Fuck. There was the sound of running footsteps coming up behind him as Alfyn joined the gathered group.

  
"Ophilia? Therion? What's goin' on?"

  
Therion grumbled and looked over at the apothecary. "Bad news, our missing patient didn't keep his promise..."

 

The trio made their way into the woods, time was of the essence. Miguel had been making death threats towards the child before dragging him away, and Therion had a feeling he was the sort of guy to follow through. Alfyn was fuming, marching with purpose as Therion lead them along the trail. Ophilia trailed behind.

Therion was slightly surprised she had come with them, she wasn't really the fighting type. She could defend herself, he had seen her light spells at a distance when monsters had attacked their group, but it was clear she didn't enjoy doing so.

  
The smell of fresh blood hit him and Therion cursed under his breath. He picked up the pace. "We need to hurry, this way, we're almost there." With Ophilia around he couldn't clarify why, but Alfyn nodded and sped up as well.

  
Entering a forest clearing they, at last, found their lost patient. Miguel turned to look at them as they approached, an evil grin on his face and bloodied dagger in hand. A young boy laid on the forest floor, gripping his side and sobbing weakly.

  
"Well, if it ain't my apothecary friend." Miguel twirled the dagger in his hand. "Kid wouldn't stop whining, so I thought I'd give 'im somethin' t' really cry about."

  
Ophilia gasped as Alfyn marched forward. "Stand aside, Miguel, and let me see the boy."

  
The red haired mercenary shook his head, sheathing his dagger. "Much as I'd like ye t' fix up me golden goose, somethin' tells me ye'd just run off with 'im."

  
Alfyn took another step forward. "The boy could die!"

  
"Hmph, and so what? I've got four mouths of me own t' feed back home." Miguel reached behind him, pulling out a spear.

  
"...I thought it was three?" Alfyn rested a hand on the handle of his axe, Therion followed his lead. The situation was tense, the more time they wasted talking the worse off the kid was.

  
Miguel pulled out a second spear. "Whoops, guess I should learn to keep me stories straight." He adjusted his stance. "Best ye cut your losses and leave now. I might stretch the truth time t' time, but I wasn't lying about being a mercenary. Miguel Twinspears has killed a hundred men if he's killed a dozen- SOLDIERS, mind you, not sniffly mollycoddles toting a bag of weeds. And what did ya bring with ye? A _cleric_ and a pet tea leaf that's lost his bite?"

  
Alfyn was furious, glaring at Miguel. He took a deep breath, his expression calmed, and he let it out. "...I get it. This, this is my fault. But, I'm going to set things right, by my own hand!" He hefted his axe, determined, and the tension broke. Alfyn and Miguel both rushed forward, the mercenary blocking Alfyn's axe easily with one spear, moving to strike with the second.

  
Therion rushed forward, striking the spear off course- turning a potentially deadly hit into a glancing blow. Miguel leaped back and hissed as a beam of light struck down on him from above. Therion recoiled- even being near the light magic burned. The mercenary took advantage of the drop in his defenses, rushing in again.

  
Therion felt a spear drive into his side, heard himself shout out in pain. The spear yanked back, Therion found himself stumbling forward from the force. Hands grabbed him roughly, spinning him around, cold metal being held to his throat.

  
"One more move and I slit your little boy toy's throat!" Miguel pressed the knife further, Therion could feel it already starting to cut in.

  
Alfyn and Ophilia were frozen. Damn it. Therion locked eyes with Alfyn, come on, the apothecary knew he could survive such an injury- he already had once.

  
The two of them remained stunned. They didn't have time for this.

  
If they weren't going to make a move, then Therion was going to have to take things into his own hands. The thief gripped his dagger and stabbed back, right into the mercenary's still healing wound. Miguel yowled in pain and anger, Therion felt cold metal slice into his neck as he was shoved forward. He gripped at the wound, gasping, he could survive it but damn if it didn't hurt like hell.

  
Alfyn hesitated for but a moment, watching in horror as Therion took the normally fatal injury. He steeled himself, hefted his axe, and rushed forward with a shout. Distracted by the pain of his freshly opened wound Miguel was not able to react fast enough. The mercenary gave one last pitiful gasp for air, then slumped to the forest floor.

  
"Hang on, I can fix this-" Ophilia, fix this? How? "I call upon the miracle of healing!"

  
"Ophilia wait-!" Alfyn wasn't able to stop her fast enough. A gentle light enveloped Therion.

  
He screamed.

  
Therion felt magic clash withing his body. Hie veins, down to the marrow of his bones, burned hot like fire. He doubled over, pale and shaking. Amazingly, his wounds had healed, the hole in his side and the cut on his neck were gone, but everything hurt. Therion curled in on himself, breathing heavily and shaking. (The craving was clawing at his mind, but not for blood, it was in pain. _It hurt, it hurt so bad_ , like he was going to crumble away.)

  
He heard Alfyn stepping towards him, Therion forced himself to speak. "I- I'll be fine. Focus... focus on the kid."

  
"R-right..." Alfyn hurried to check on the child, who was still sobbing softly off to the side. Therion heard him trying to comfort the boy.

  
Ophilia was standing in shock. "G-good heavens I-" Therion felt her presence drawing closer, he curled up tighter. The sacred flame, it was so painful now. He felt her hand soft on his shoulder. "Therion?"

  
He groaned, bad as this was he was still going to need to walk out of here. He uncurled slowly, sitting up on his knees, still huffing for breath. As he sat up he reached for his scarf, grasping at air. It was gone?

  
Ophilia gasped and stepped back, eyes wide. "A-Alfyn, Therion, h-he's-"

  
Therion looked around and spotted his scarf on the ground, had Miguel yanked it off during the fight? He moved to get back on his feet, he found himself swaying. The cleric was holding her staff in front of her. He could hear her heart racing, see her hands shaking.

  
"It's okay- he ain't gonna hurt ya." Alfyn stood, walking over, the young boy curled up in his arms. The healing magic had reached him, but he was still going to need treatment to ward off infection. "Therion? Are you, going to be able to get back to town?"

  
"I'm fine-" He took a step and his knees refused to hold him up anymore, sending him back to the ground. Shit.

  
Ophilia slowly lowered her staff, "This...does explain some things." Her eyes widened in realization and she looked over at Alfyn. The mark on his neck, not a hickey but a bite wound, was visible just under his shirt collar. "Wait- do you mean that other night he was actually-"

  
Alfyn went a deep red. "Ah- w-well-" his eyes darted down to the child in his arms, they seemed to have fallen asleep.

  
"I didn't do anything Alfyn didn't want." Therion had dragged himself to his feet again, stepping over and retrieving his scarf. He shook off the clinging dead leaves and dirt before warping it back around his face. "You gonna finish the job and smite me or are we heading back to town?"

  
The cleric blushed and looked away. "I'm sorry, if I had known... you are a noble man, Therion. I do not wish to harm you."

  
Him, noble, if he had the energy he would laugh. "Don't want people knowing." He took a couple staggering steps, intending to storm off, and found himself tipping sideways. To his surprise, Ophilia caught him. Therion growled, mostly in frustration. He hated feeling so weak, so vulnerable.

  
"Alfyn knows, and it it allows him to...help you. We're your friends, Therion, we travel and fight together. Do you not think this is something worth sharing, so we know how to best help in times like this?" They began their exit from the woods, Ophilia supporting his every step.

  
Therion didn't respond, eyes averted. (The voice didn't like this, being so close to her. He swore he could feel holy energy through her skin, pumping through her veins.)

  
They walked in silence for a while, until the town became visible through the trees. Alfyn broke the silence. "I gotta get this kid home, fix him some medicine. Let the town guard know what happened... Ophilia if you could find Cyrus when we get back- he knows. He should be able t' help out til I get back."

  
Ophilia nodded, as they exited the woods the boy's mother ran forward to meet them. A fresh wave of tears falling down her face as she saw her son again. So, so thankful that they had gotten him back. It reminded Therion of how Alfyn had looked at him, back in Quarrycrest when he first woke up.

  
Miguel's words echoed in Therions mind, mixed with what Darius had told him so many times. Sentimental fool, he should know by now that people like him couldn't afford to get close to others. (But, without his friends, where would he be now? Slave to some necromancer, the research project of some crazy mage? Dead, if he was lucky.) Conflicting thoughts swirled, hard learned lessons clashing with more recent events as Ophilia escorted him back to his room, as he laid there feeling sleep tug at his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therion was starting to be happy and MIGUEL YOU JUST HAD TO OPEN YOUR MOUTH.
> 
> Not important but he got Miguel a bran muffin. It seemed like the least appetizing option.


	16. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. There's more smut this chapter.
> 
> I can't take my eyes off these boys for a second.
> 
> That said, *slams down chapter, flees back into the night*

Once Ophilia left the pain began to fade, the craving's need for blood returning. Even so the way it growled in his mind felt different. Hungry but timid, scared, did the light magic do something to it? The door to the room opened, it perked up a bit at the sound of a heartbeat entering the room.

  
"Therion? How are you fairing?" Cyrus stepped into the room, pulled up the chair, and took a seat beside the bed. "Ophilia mentioned she tried to heal you, and that you had quite the adverse reaction."

  
Therion groaned, pushing a hand over his face and through his bangs. "Been worse. Been better."

  
He caught sight of the professor's face, a soft look of concern. "Your injuries, might I see them? I was told you had been run through by a spear and that your throat had been slit. I wish to see the condition the healing spell has left them in."

  
Letting out a defeated sigh, Therion unwrapped his scarf. "I'm guessing you're not going to take no for an answer."

  
Cyrus hummed to himself as he reached over, lightly tilting Therion's head up to better look at his neck. "Interesting." He turned his attention to the hole in Therion's shirt, gingerly lifting the fabric. "There is more scaring that what healing spells typically leave, but otherwise the wounds seem no worse for wear." He pulled back and fished back out his notebook. "I am surprised the healing spell worked on you at all. This is quite the discovery."

  
"Yeah, well, I wouldn't like to repeat the experience." He took a peek down at Cyrus' notebook as he wrote, spotting a rough sketch in ink taking up the majority of one of the pages. He had...drawn him and Alfyn back in Quarrycrest? He wasn't sure how to feel about that- but could imagine the flustered look on Alfyn's face knowing that the moment had been immortalized on paper.

  
"Ah, yes, of course. It would stand to reason that healing magic is the elemental opposition to necromancy; much as fire clashes with ice, wind with lightning, and dark with light. Clashing of opposing elements is a violent affair, it is fortunate that this reaction did not kill you outright." Cyrus kept focused on his notebook as he spoke, scribbling away.

  
Well, wonderful, so instead of dying he just felt like he was going to die.

  
The professor stopped writing and looked up at him. "But I digress, I should ask you- when was the last you took a blood meal? I am going to hypothesize that you require one after your ordeal this morning."

  
Cyrus wasn't wrong, the injuries and being hit with the healing spell left him feeling drained. ( _Blood, yes, he needed blood._ ) Therion averted his eyes, staring at his boots. He should probably take those off. "Couple days ago, when we first got to town. Alfyn...offered again."

  
"Hm, so you fed from Alfyn two days ago, and then there was the amount you took from him in Quarrycrest... he is likely to be busy for a while, and it may be best that he has more time to recover between feedings." He set down his notebook on the nightstand, moving to remove his cloak. "One thing I have been meaning to ask, do you always aim for the neck when you feed?"

  
"I...guess." There wasn't really a reason to it he supposed, aside from it's what the craving pushed him to do.

  
"Does it have to be the neck?" His coat draped on the back of the chair, Cyrus began rolling up the sleeve on his left arm.

  
Therion looked at the professor, quirking an eyebrow. "Well, no. What are you planning?"

  
Cyrus held out his exposed arm to Therion. "I wish to offer you a blood meal. This way you can recover from your ordeal today, and allow Alfyn time to recover from your more recent feedings on him. This will also allow me to experience first hand the effects your bite causes."

  
Therion's eyes darted between the professor and his outstretched arm. ( _It was being offered, what was he waiting for?_ ) He scooted over, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Cyrus' arm in hand. "You know, never expected this sort of reaction to people finding out I'm a vampire. Still think you're all crazy, keeping me around."

  
"Therion, you realize this condition does not define who you are as a person? You are not the sort to harm others, not without reason, you are far from being a danger to anyone in our group."

  
Therion huffed, he didn't agree but he didn't really have the energy to argue either. "Alright, try not to move." He bit into Cyrus' arm, feeling the professor flinch slightly before his body relaxed.

  
He pulled back, making a face. Cyrus tasted... _weird_. Like the powerful magic he wielded coursed through his veins- it caused a burning sensation in his mouth. (Spicy, like a hot pepper. _He liked Alfyn better._ )

  
Cyrus was watching him intently. "Is there something wrong?" He looked between Therion and his bleeding arm with a quizzical expression.

  
The faint burning lingered at the back of his throat. "I can taste your magic, feel like I just bit into a chili pepper."

  
"Truly?" Cyrus considered, then brought his own arm to his mouth and gave it an experimental lick. "Hm, I do not taste it myself. Perhaps it's another side effect of your condition?"

  
Therion shook his head as Cyrus held his arm back out to him. "You're a strange guy, Cyrus."

 

 

"...one of these spoonfuls, twice a day, over the next week. Should keep him from gettin' sick from his injury, but if he gets a fever you should contact an apothecary right away." Alfyn gingerly handed a bottle of tonic and spoon over to the woman, the mother of the boy they had saved. As thankful as she was, he couldn't shake the heavy feeling of guilt- if he hadn't fixed up Miguel in the first place none of this would have happened. The child in question was curled up in his bed, resting.

  
He could do what he could to prevent infection, but... no child deserved to go through what he had. Dragged away at knife point by a stranger. A stranger who had every intent to let him slowly die in those woods. It was an injury he couldn't touch, that would stick with him long after his physical scars faded.

  
The woman nodded, taking the medicine in hand. "I cannot thank you enough. Little Tommy he's... he's all I have left. I don't know how I could ever fully repay you- please, what do I owe you?"

  
Alfyn shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, it's the least I could do." A single mother, with only her son left to call family... it was an echo of his own life growing up. (Though, it was clear this woman was better off financially than him and his mom had ever been.) Her grief was likely similar to what his own mother had felt, back when he had fallen deathly ill.

  
Gods, and it was his fault she had to go through all that.

  
"You two take care now, and...I'm sorry, that all this happened." He turned to go, but was stopped when the woman pulled him into a hug.

  
"You are a very kind young man. Your own mother must be very proud."

  
Considering the things he had done lately, he wasn't so sure anymore. The apothecary fought back tears, muttered a small "thank you" when he was released, and left.

  
He found a quiet spot on the riverbank, sitting with his knees hugged to his chest as he watched the water. Tears rolled down his cheeks, though he tried to keep his sobs quiet as to not draw attention of passers by. He had bloodied his own hands twice now, what would his mother say? To see her little boy turned killer? The necromancer had done horrible, terrible things. Miguel... it had been a mistake to help him at all. Could either situation have ended differently, could he have done anything different?

  
If he went back and did it all over, would he have been able to do any of it differently?

  
"Alfyn?" He jumped and began wiping away his tears as a gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Ophilia lowered herself to the ground next to him. "You look like you could use someone to talk to. Is the little boy alright?"

  
"Yeah, yeah, he'll be okay. Physically, at least." He looked back out at the water, at the dragonflies skirting along the surface and shadows of fish swimming below. "You holdin' up alright?"

  
The cleric gave a small nod. "I will be fine. And, Cyrus assured me that Therion should make a full recovery." Their conversation paused, the gentle flow of the river filling in the empty space. "I was not sure what to expect when I set out on my journey. Today was...not the first death I found myself witness to. When we accompanied Primrose to Stillsnow, she shared with us the purpose of her quest. That horrible man she had been searching for..." she shook her head, "we did not wish for Prim to go alone, but Sir Olberic was not permitted to join us. I can only pray for good fortune for those girls and women we freed from there that day, at the cost of that man's life."

  
Alfyn was quiet, mulling the story over. "Does it, bother you, that we've... do ya think there coulda been another way for any of it to end? Without so much bloodshed?"

  
"We can hope, and pray, that we may find more peaceful solutions to the problems we face. If only all those we faced were willing to give such peace a chance." She placed a gentle hand on Alfyn's shoulder. "If you are ready, the others are waiting back at the inn. We're all here for you."

  
With one last sniff and wipe of his face, Alfyn nodded and stood. "Yeah, yeah alright. Heh, sorry to make y'all worry."

 

 

Therion wound up sleeping for most of the day, the exposure to healing magic had left him more fatigued than most other injuries he had recovered from in the past. He tossed and turned, his worries and anxieties morphing into nightmares. He dreamed of facing down Miguel again, that gods damned laugh echoing in his ears as a spear drove into him. " _It's a dangerous game you're playin', for our line o' work..._ " The scene morphed, not a forest but the dusty crags of the Cliftlands, that red mantel replaced by a green cape. The laughter got louder, blending with _his_ voice, " _You were always such a sentimental fool!_ " He felt steel sink into his throat, the earth fell away under his feet and he was falling-

  
He jolted awake, sitting up trying to steady his heavy breaths. Still his racing heart. He hadn't had a dream about that day for a while, he had hoped they had stopped. Miguel just reminded him so much of Darius. That red hair, the way he spoke, his willingness to exploit anyone to get ahead. Therion reached up, rubbing the aching new scar on his neck. (Getting his throat slit was going to become a habit at this rate, damn.)

  
The door opened as Therion was about to lie back down.

  
"Oh- sorry, didn't mean t' wake ya up." Alfyn had two plates of food in hand, Therion could smell roasted fish.

  
"You didn't." He shifted, giving Alfyn room to sit on the bed as the apothecary handed him a plate. He was considerably less cheerful than he usually was, his friendly smile felt forced- not quite reaching his eyes. "You look like you've got something on your mind."

  
Alfyn prodded at his food. "It's... nothin' important. Just. Been a long day, y'know?"

  
"You're a terrible liar, you know that? C'mon, avoiding talking about shit is my job." That earned him a small chuckle from Alfyn, well it was a start.

  
"You aren't the first one t' tell me that." The small smile fell. "Just, keep thinking about everything that happened. That... that other apothecary was right. I shouldn't have saved Miguel, if I hadn't helped him then, then none of this woulda happened. Woulda saved a lotta grief for that poor lady and her kid. You wouldn't have gotten hurt. I...really made a mess of things."

  
"Miguel was the bastard who hurt everyone." He hated this, watching Alfyn put all the blame on himself. "It's not your fault that he stabbed you in the back. Some guys just... they take advantage of people any chance they get." People like Darius. People like him. A thief, a monster. They were parasites, feeding on the misfortune of others.

  
Alfyn curled in on himself slightly. "Just, gods, I really thought... thought I coulda made a difference there. Everything we did, all that hard work, and he just..."

  
Shoot, what could he do here? He was just making things worse trying to talk. (The voice whispered, soft in the back of his mind, _get closer. Reach out. Touch._ )

Therion shifted, leaned against Alfyn, and brought his arms around him best as he could.

  
Alfyn leaned into the contact and returned the embrace, taking in a shaky breath that came out as a light sob. They clung like that for a while, Alfyn tucked close against his neck, warm tears soaking into his shirt. Therion held still, awkwardly patting his back, was this working? (Alfyn was clinging to him so tight, like he'd never let go.)

  
Eventually Alfyn's sobbing faded. "Thanks, Therion... I love ya, you know that?"

  
He felt the heat rushing to his face. Why? "I'm flattered, but, not sure what you see in a guy like me."

  
Alfyn pulled back, searching his face. Therion couldn't bring himself to look him in the eye.

  
"Well, there's lots of things." Alfyn pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "You're a good listener, for one. You're caring, and watch out for all of us." He planted a kiss to his cheek. "It's so cute, the way ya go all red and hide in your scarf whenever someone does somethin' nice for ya. And, gods, it's magical t' see ya actually smile." Another kiss, this time to his nose. "You act like a grumpy guy, it's really somethin' when ya enjoy yourself. To see ya happy."

  
Therion whined and squirmed, but didn't push away. He was flushed to his ears, all the small kisses and gentle words were driving him crazy. "Alfyn, c'mon..."

  
A quick, brief kiss to his lips, the two of them slowly fell back until Alfyn was softly pinning him under him. (Their dinners laid half eaten and forgotten.) "Ophilia was right, that you're noble. You're more honest than ya give yourself credit for, if ya make a promise you see it through. You put others before your own safety... and that scares me t' death but at the same time I can't help but admire ya for it." Another soft kiss, under his ear. "You've got a good heart, Theri, buried under all those thorns."

  
Therion groaned, clinging tight and burying his burning face against Alfyn's shoulder. "This going somewhere or are you just going to keep teasing me?"

  
He heard Alfyn's heartbeat pick up as he chuckled, pressing more kisses to the side of his head. "Can't help it, you're so cute, I just wanna smooch ya all over." The two of them shifted, getting more comfortable. "I could keep goin' all night."

  
Therion dropped his head back in time for Alfyn to shoot him a wink. "Yeah? Careful, I might just hold you to that." Alfyn leaned in for another kiss and Therion met him halfway, softly humming as they explored each other's mouths gently and slowly. He spread his legs, pressing up impatiently against Alfyn as those large, gentle hands began exploring his body.

  
They parted, Alfyn dusting his face with more kisses before lifting his shirt off over his head. "Heh, you're such a snugglebug too. Still remember how tight ya clung to me back in Rippletide..."

  
Therion sucked in a breath as Alfyn planted a kiss to his neck. "You sure I didn't just want to bite you?"

  
"Hmm...can't say I would have minded. Still love all those times I've woken up with ya snuggled up to me." He sat up for a moment to shrug off his vest and shirt. Therion heard himself whine at the loss of the warmth.

  
Alfyn was looking at him so fondly. His eyes were still a little red from crying, but his smile at last reached them again. He returned, letting out a small laugh as Therion wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held tight. "You're absolutely gorgeous, too. Your eyes, gods, they remind me of how light shimmers off the river on a clear summer's day..."

  
Therion heard himself whine again, clinging tight as Alfyn continued to shower him in praise and soft kisses. His head was buzzing, somewhere in his mind was a whisper that there was no way he actually meant all of this, but it fizzled with every kiss and word. Soon (but not soon enough, Alfyn was moving teasingly slow) they had stripped away each other's pants as well. Alfyn paused as his hand trailed lower, cupping Therion's ass. He pressed into the touch, making a desperate sound. A quick question, a brief parting, and Therion ceased to process words as Alfyn slowly stretched him open.

  
The rumbling sound had returned, Alfyn stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. "Therion? Are you...purring?"

  
He turned his head to the side, hiding his face in a pillow. "N..no. Don't, don't stop..."

  
Alfyn pressed another kiss to the side of his head. "Heh, I think it's cute." He lightly ground his fingers into that sensitive spot, causing Therion's breath to hitch and the purring to return. "Wouldn't mind hearin' more." The apothecary slid his other hand between them, gently squeezing and pumping Therion's cock. Gods, he couldn't hold back a moan then as the rumble of his purrs got louder.

  
The fingers left, Therion let out another disappointed whine. (He didn't want any of this to stop. He wanted to stay surrounded in the warmth, in the beat of Alfyn's pulse.) He felt Alfyn against him then, slowly pressing in. He swore as his body relented, and the apothecary was all around him. Clinging tight, pressing kisses to his neck and face as he slowly sank in. Alfyn's pulse was around him, _inside_ him, he found himself pressing back into each (slow, painfully slow) thrust.

  
Alfyn hummed in satisfaction as he bottomed out, claiming Therion's mouth for another deep kiss. (Part of him wouldn't mind just staying like that, feeling him thrum deep inside him.) They broke apart, gasping for breath.

  
"Alfyn- please-" Putting words together was difficult. Therion could hear the desperation in his voice. He groaned, moving his hips to try and get more of that delicious friction.

  
Another kiss to his temple. "Alright, just, just hang on. I've got ya." Alfyn's voice was wavering, all words fell apart as he pulled back his hips and thrust back in- it still wasn't fast enough. Therion found himself gasping Alfyn's name, begging for more with every thrust as the pace slowly increased.

  
Alfyn reached between them again, pumping his cock in time with his thrusts- it was too much, it wasn't enough, he pressed his face against the apothecary's neck as their bodies rocked together. Their moans and shouts mingled together in the room, Therion didn't even care if he was getting loud. Lost in the moment, in the pleasure.

  
The building tension at last released, Therion gasped as his orgasm hit him hard- his body shaking with waves of pleasure. Alfyn moaned loudly above him, pressed in to the hilt as he joined Therion in release.

  
As they lay together, catching their breaths, Alfyn pressed more small kisses to Therion's face. "You're amazin', you know that?"

  
He didn't think so, no, but maybe if he kept hearing it like this it could stick. Therion relaxed his grip around Alfyn's shoulders. "Gods, you're so sappy..."

  
"Yeah? Heh, guess that's good, ya got such a sweet tooth after all." He carefully pulled out and Therion bit back a disappointed groan. ( _It felt so good, being so close._ ) "Sit tight, I'll get ya cleaned up."

 

 

That night Therion found himself lying awake, tucked up against Alfyn's chest as he slept. (He could swear the voice hadn't stopped purring at the back of his mind.) He couldn't be sure he wasn't just using Alfyn, but, he sure seemed to think highly of him. (Yeah. No pressure or anything.) He couldn't deny he was really attached. It hurt to see Alfyn in distress, to see him hurt or upset. It was uplifting to see him smile. Was this what having friends was like?

  
Was this...what love was like?

  
Maybe it was.


	17. Truth and Knives

It was morning, just after training. The entire group had gathered together in Cyrus and Olberic's shared room, per Therion's request.

He hadn't been able to shake what Ophilia had told him, walking him out of the woods. Running the events of Noblecourt, Quarrycrest, and what had just happened here in Saintsbridge over and over in his mind. His unique condition, his vampirism, came with unique risks- and much as he hated to admit it... Ophilia was right. If they were going to keep traveling together, then they deserved to know. At the very least he knew Alfyn and Cyrus had his back. (And Tressa, he supposed. As for Ophilia, she tried to hide it but she still seemed scared of him.)

He stood, arms crossed, by the door as everyone got situated. H'aanit sat on one of the beds and was immediately joined by Linde curling up at her feet and Hagan hopping up and taking up the rest of the bed. Tressa sat on the floor, petting the snow leopard. Cyrus and Olberic sat on the other bed, while Primrose and Ophilia took the chairs. Alfyn stood at Therion's side, smiling reassuringly at him.

"Right, so, you all are probably wondering why I asked for us to meet up in here..." he fidgeted with the end of his scarf, it made sense to do this but he couldn't shake the looming anxiety. He took a deep breath, let it out. "Some of you already know this, but," he paused, Alfyn rested a hand on his shoulder. Therion tugged down his scarf. He focused his sight on a knot in the wood of the floorboards. "I have a condition... can't really call myself human."

He paused, waiting for the reactions to start. Linde chuffed, stood, and walked over- nudging his hand until her nose was forced into his palm.

"Thou still hafts Linde's approval, and mine own as welle." Therion looked up to see H'aanit was smiling gently.

"You might want to wait, until you know more..." Therion relented and scratched Linde behind her ears. (He saw what Alfyn had meant when he said he could lose his hand in that dense, soft fur.)

Cyrus cleared his throat. "If I may, I have been taking notes and gathering information on Therion's unique condition." Therion tugged his scarf back up and nodded to the professor, who dived right into a long-winded lecture. He brought up everything they had figured out so far, as well as the events in Quarrycrest that lead to him and Alfyn learning of his vampirism in the first place.

Gods, he hoped he never ran into another necromancer again.

The lecture ended and silence once again fell over the room, broken up only by Linde's soft purrs as she insistently rubbed her head into Therion's hand.

"Well," Primrose smirked, "I must say, for a bloodthirsty monster you have better manners than half the men I've ever danced for."

Therion snorted. "Must be a pretty low bar, then."

"Well if you wanna compare yourself to other monsters, you've at least got better manners than Hagan." Tressa was giggling. Hagan's ears went back and he growled out a complaint.

As the mood of the rest of the room lightened, Therion's eyes fell on Olberic. His expression stoic (as it often was, it made him hard to read), head bowed and eyes closed in thought. The knight looked up at him. "Ah, so that is the reason you falter whenever Ophilia watches our practice."

Ophilia wrung her hands in her skirt. "I am terribly sorry, I shall be sure to give you your space while you are training in the future."

"No," Therion shook his head, "I need to get used to it. Better to get distracted in training than getting run through in battle. Not that I can't survive it, but, it's not the most pleasant experience."

Alfyn pat him on the back. "You're tellin' me- shucks you're gonna give me a heart attack if you keep gettin' hurt like that."

Therion tugged up on his scarf as the group discussion shifted to different training plans, if anyone else wanted to join in the sessions. They really just... nothing seemed to have changed. Was it really that fucking simple the entire time? This, this was what having friends was like. What is was actually like. No judgement, no tiptoeing around certain topics because that might bring on a violent outburst, no berating him or guilting him for not bringing it up sooner. He shouldn't get to comfortable, this could still be temporary. Even so... it was nice.

  
Hell was approaching. Therion could see the dunes of sand rising up in the distance. Goldshore was the next stop for the Kindling, and between them were two more locations: Stonegard (where H'aanit and Cyrus both had business) and the blazing expanse of the Sunlands.

Primrose fell into pace next to him. "If you glare any harder you might actually set the desert on fire."

He grumbled, "Last time we were there it wasn't exactly a fun experience." He wasn't sure if he wanted to strip down, or pile on clothing to minimize how much sunlight hit him.

"Last time you also kept that scarf wrapped around you like you were in a snowstorm. Perhaps when we stop in Sunshade we can get you a nice shawl, or maybe..." she hummed, looking him over, "I think I know something that would look lovely on you, keep you cool," her lips quirked up into a teasing smirk, "catch Alfyn's eye."

Therion raised an eyebrow, tugging down his scarf as they crossed the bridge. (The heat was more tolerable without it, even so he felt like he was wearing too many layers.) "...I'm listening."

Thankfully they reached Sunshade before the sun hit its peak. Primrose dragged Therion towards the bazaar as the rest of the group went to get situated at the inn.

He ran the light, airy fabric through his fingers. What Primrose had picked out matched the purples he liked to wear, and she had even found a strip of cloth that he could still use to cover his mouth without feeling like he was boiling alive. At the same time, an outfit with this little cloth...he was going to have to get creative with where he hid things. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"You can save your regrets for after you try it on, at the very least." Primrose hadn't stopped grinning at him the entire time. "Maybe I should teach you some moves too. As quick and nimble as you are I imagine you would make for a wonderful dancer."

He pulled up on his scarf, yeah- no. He told himself the warmth was just due to the heat of the day and his clothing. "Maybe some other time."

Alfyn was out when they found their way to the inn, he had probably found some patients while looking around town. It gave Therion a private moment to change into his new outfit. It was, in a word, revealing. The small vest did nothing to hide the numerous scars that criss-crossed his torso. That said, it was a lot cooler than what he had been wearing before. Only one question really remained, would it still feel better out in the sun?

He ventured down to the inn's common room where Primrose was waiting. She scrutinized him, motioning with her finger for him to turn around. "Hm, I still say the tights would have looked good on you. But if you ever take up my offer to teach you some steps the looser fabric should flow nicely."

"Yeah, well, I'm only wearing this so I can survive traveling out here." The day was winding down and more travelers were coming in to rent rooms, he tried to ignore the eyes that wandered their way. He was starting to have regrets, drawing attention wasn't good for his trade.

The door chimed and a familiar apothecary in green strode in, sweaty and slightly disheveled from running around all day. Alfyn paused as he caught site of him, his eyes going wide. (Numerous heartbeats mingled in the room, but he was pretty sure he could pick out Alfyn's as the pulse increased in speed.) Therion chuckled, okay, that reaction alone made this all worth it.

  
The air cooled drastically once the sun set, Therion threw back on his mantel for the group's trip to the tavern. Sunshade had one of the largest taverns Therion had ever been to, a lot of the space was taken up by a massive stage. There wasn't a show this evening, the boisterous crowd entertaining themselves with other activities- pretty much all of which being turned into some sort of drinking game or bet.

Tressa was making a face. "Uhg, it smells like grog in here." A crowd around one of the other tables cheered, there was the clinking of glasses and sloshing of drink.

"It's a bar, what do you expect?" Therion slouched back in his chair, scanning the room. Eyes drawn to hands exchanging leaves. He might have to get in on some of the games here.

"It is rather...lively in here, isn't it?" Ophilia had spotted two rather muscular men locked in an intense arm wrestling contest, lookers on chanting excitedly. H'aanit, seated next to her, was staring around the room with a look of disapproval.

"Oh, this is tame, compared to how this place was run before." Primrose smiled and waved the barkeep, who nodded and sent a server their way.

Most of the group made their way back to the inn once their meal was finished. Therion and Alfyn lingered behind, sharing some drinks and stories.

"So, by the time Zeph's pa came back the two of us were tangled in the fishing line- thumbs stuck together with the fish hook. I was screamin', Zeph was screamin'," Alfyn chuckled and took another swing of his drink, "remember hearin' our ma's givin' 'im grief for leavin' us alone in th' first place. Not tha' we wouldn't run off an' find more trouble anyway."

Therion shook his head, a wide grin visible as he let his scarf hang a bit more loosely. "Can't believe the two of you survived this long. Was that before, or after the time you tried to just grab fish with your bare hands and nearly drowned?"

"After. And I mean, it wasn't so much drownin' as it was late autumn. Was turnin' blue but I don' remember th' cold buggin' me." He looked down at his drink, swirling the liquid inside. "You got any stories, from back when your folks were still around?"

"Can't really say that I do. I remember playing in the filthy river and bringing home trash...think I tried to color my hair with mud once?" Right, that was a thing he would do. He hated his white hair as a kid, and tried to change it with various methods. Crying in the tub while his mom tried to scrub away the filth (which, in hindsight, was probably not mud) wasn't the most flattering of memories, really.

Alfyn chuckled, "Heh, well, lead a kid to mud and they'll wind up covered in it. I've been there."

"I bet you have." Hell, Alfyn still got pretty dirty gathering plants on the road. Therion leaned back, eyeing a small group gathered around a table of throwing knives. Every now and again there was a thunk of metal sinking into wood, and the group would either cheer or groan. "What do you say we join in the fun here. Ever thrown a knife before?"

"Nope, but hey, always time to learn!" The apothecary held up his half full mug to him, then finished it in one go.

Therion stood and motioned for Alfyn to follow him. As they approached the last competition seemed to have ended, one man slouching in a chair in defeat as members of the crowed exchanged bets. Time to turn on the charm.

"Gentlemen, I don't suppose anyone could get in on this wager? My friend here and I would like to join in." Various people of the group sized the two of them up, whispering among themselves.

The man apparently overseeing the game smiled wide, "Aye, step on up. It'll be you 'gainst 'im. Each time ye miss, ya drink, first t' surrender or black out loses." Ah, a drinking competition.

He overheard some of the whispers. "I got a 'undred on the guy in green- lookit the size o' im! Gonna take a lotta drink t' drop 'im." "You're on, he don't look like the knife throwin' sort. Bet 'e can't hit a tree in th' woods."

"A fitting challenge, I don't suppose you would mind if I give my friend here a few pointers before we get started?" He heard someone in the crowd groan.

"Ha, sure! It'll be yer loss, shrimp!" The game master motioned for them to step up as the knives from the last round were placed back on the table. "Clear th' area, we got a green one up!"

Alfyn chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, "Shucks, hope I don't hit anyone."

Therion waved off the comments from the crowd, "Eh, don't worry, he's an apothecary. If he hits you he'll patch you up." A nervous laugh rippled through the crowd, several people stepped back as Alfyn picked up one of the knives.

"Okay, hang on," Therion leaned over, reaching to adjust Alfyn's grip. "First of all, you're holding it too tight. Relax a bit." He walked Alfyn through how to adjust his stance, then took a step back. "and try to keep your arm straight when you throw, think you got it?"

Alfyn took in a deep breath and nodded, "Alright, here goes nothin'!" He swung, the knife thunked into the wall just above the target. He grinned wide, "look at that, I did it!"

Therion patted his arm, "Not bad, for your first try." He picked up a knife and flipped it in his hand. "Hope you're not expecting me to go easy on you though." He flung the blade effortlessly, hitting the target dead on. "I know how to throw, you can hold your drink- let's see who'll win."

 

  
Alfyn had his arm slung over his shoulder, the two of them staggering back to the inn. A couple bad throws and the drinks, on top of what he already had while chatting with Alfyn, left his hand-eye coordination shot. The crowd was in a complete uproar when they left, shocked when Therion conceded defeat. Alfyn had missed by far the most throws, taken the most penalty drinks, how he was still up and talking was a mystery.

"Next time...next time we find some poor sod to play against you. Split the winning bet." Therion's head was spinning, he could probably still walk on his own if he tried but Alfyn wasn't giving him the chance. (Not that he had complained when he pulled his arm over his shoulder, lifted him up.) "Bit of practice with your throwing, you'll be invincible."

Alfyn laughed, smiling bright. "Yeah? Sounds like fun- guess we'll see if either of us remember in the morning."

 

  
Therion owed Primrose a favor, the dancer's outfit made a world of difference when they set back out the following morning. The sun burned at his exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to how he felt like he was broiling in his clothing before. So long as he kept himself well fed, avoided serious injury, then the desert was survivable. (Also, it was adorable how Alfyn's heart sped up every time he looked at him- maybe he would take Prim up on those lessons after all...)

It wasn't long until they found themselves in the winding paths of the highlands once more. The air at the higher altitude was chilled, and Therion had to switch back to his normal travel clothes. For the most part the actual traveling was uneventful, but at the same time he was finding it hard to shake the feeling that someone, or something, was watching. Especially at night, he was acutely aware of every little sound and movement out in the dark.

As Stonegard came into view, Hagan stood to attention. The dire wolf looked back at H'aanit, barked, and broke into a run towards the town. Concerned, the huntress ran after with Linde at her heels. Well, they were sure going to make an entrance into town. The rest of the group chased after her, just in case.

Therion thought he saw something (there was another heartbeat, it was easier to hear now), but when he turned around there was nothing there.

They were hiding. He could still hear a heartbeat.

Alfyn called after him, "Hey, Therion! You coming?"

"...yeah, yeah I'm coming." He turned back around and ran after his companions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bit of travel, bit of skill sharing, bit of throwing sharp objects while drunk.


	18. Scholarly Pursuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle in, we're in for a ride for this one.
> 
> I only started crying like...twice writing this.

As the group caught up to the dire wolf, the beast was busy snarling at a man in aristocratic dress. A woman, arms laden with groceries, stood by looking unimpressed. The man's bodyguard was trying to shoo Hagen away to little effect. When the guard spotted Linde his face fell, something within him broke, and he ran.

"H-hey, where are you going?" The aristocrat looked nervously at the large, snarling wolf. "I don't pay you to run!" He took off after his bodyguard, the woman with groceries shook her head. Hagen stopped snarling and walked up to her, tail wagging.

"Hagen, doth thou knowen this lady?" H'aanit walked over, Hagen wuffed a reply.

H'aanit and the woman (Natalia, as Therion overheard) began talking and made for Natalia's home. Most of the group, Ophilia, Primrose, Tressa, and Olberic, followed after. Cyrus excused himself, making his way to the local book bindery (and really, how much trouble could he get into there?)

Motion out the corner of his eye, in the direction the professor had just gone down.

Alfyn turned back to look when he noticed he wasn't following. "Therion? Something wrong?"

"I think somebody's been following us." He looked back, him and Alfyn were the only ones left standing around. "And I think they just locked onto the one lone member of our little group."

  
Therion motioned for Alfyn to follow him, making their way towards the book bindery. There didn't seem to be anyone suspicious around, but he knew he saw something. Heard someone.

"Excuse me-" A voice from behind made him jump, spinning around with a hand on his dagger. The person- a woman in scholarly robes, held up her hands in a placating manner. "Oh but you are high strung, aren't you?" She smiled pleasantly and held a hand out to Alfyn. "My name is Lucia, assistant to the headmaster at the royal academy. The two of you are friends of Professor Cyrus, correct?"

"Well, shucks, it's nice to meet ya Miss Lucia." Alfyn accepted the handshake while Therion continued to eye the woman warily, hand still resting on his dagger.

"If you're the headmaster's assistant, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be back at your school?" This didn't make sense, surely that wasn't a job that you could just up and walk away from. The only reason Cyrus was traveling was because the academy had (temporarily) suspended him.

"I have something of utmost importance to discuss with the Professor. He seems busy at the moment, however. Perhaps the two of you could aid me with something? The Headmaster's birthplace lies in this town. Truth be told..." Lucia's pleasant smile fell, "I do not trust Yvon, I fear he has been planning something dastardly. His old residence is long abandoned, but we may be able to uncover some clues as to what the man is planning."

"We'd be happy t' help, right Therion?" Alfyn looked back at him, earnest smile, and damn it all. He still felt on edge, if she was a friend of Cyrus then why was she sneaking around?

He tightened his grip on his dagger and nodded. "Fine, but if we find anything suspicious we're getting Cyrus." He stuck close behind Alfyn, eye trained on Lucia as she lead them into the upper side of town.

The mansion looked as though it had been abandoned for years. Dried, dead plants were all that remained of the garden, dust covered the windows. Cracks in the walls, missing shingles and holes in the roof. Lucia pulled out a set of keys and opened the door which creaked on its hinges.

"Right this way, gentlemen." Lucia motioned for them to step inside, at which point Therion grabbed Alfyn's arm to stop him.

"...we'll be right behind you." He locked eyes with the woman, he got a sense that she wasn't too happy with him.

Lucia's eyes looked between the two of them, then she nodded. "If you insist." She stepped inside, disappearing into the shadows. Before Therion could admit that he didn't like this, they should go get Cyrus, an alarmed scream issued from within.

" _Shit_ , Miss Lucia are you-" Alfyn rushed inside, and Therion wasn't about to let him go alone. As soon as they entered the door slammed shut, Alfyn got cut off mid sentence as he gasped- his footsteps disappearing as his foot hit air.

Therion, hand still on Alfyn's arm, tightened his grip as he felt Alfyn falling forward, hitting the ground hard as the apothecary dangled over a ledge. It was too dark, he didn't know how deep the hole was, but he knew right now he was the only thing keeping him from plummeting. He could feel his grip slipping, he needed to pull him up before-

A hand rested against the back of his head. "Thank you, boys, you've been a great help." Static as he felt magical energy gather in Lucia's palm. There was no time to react, he couldn't let go- if he let go then-

 

  
Alfyn watched in horror as Therion took the lightning spell point blank, the grip the thief had on him released and he went into free fall. No, no not again- a hit like that would kill most people. Could Therion survive it? _Did_ he survive it? He hit the ground hard, shouting as he felt a crunch as his ankle hit first- tipping at an impossible angle. The rest of his body followed, ending with his head slamming into the stone. It didn't knock him out, but he felt dizzy. Concussion, broken ankle, he groaned as he pushed himself off the floor. What little light there was vanished with the sound of a wooden cover sliding back over the trap door.

That no good, double crossing woman had just- tricked. Again. He got tricked again, just like he had with Miguel. Therion had told him he was too trusting for his own good, and now-

_Therion_.

Therion could be dead, and it was all his fault. Tears welled up in his eyes, his sob echoed in the stone pit. He screwed up. Again. He had gotten Therion hurt. Again. And now, now he was left to rot alone at the bottom of some hole. Nobody even knew where he and Therion had gone. He curled up, tipping back over onto the floor, sobs flowing freely. He cried so long that, eventually, the tears stopped- he was too tired. His head hurt, his ankle hurt, he should see to his injuries, but what was the point?

Alfyn wasn't sure just how long he lied there, curled up at the bottom of some pit. His throat felt dry, parched. His stomach growled. He should still have some food, some water, but he couldn't bring himself to dig for them in his satchel. Then, suddenly- light. The trap door had been opened? Alfyn looked up, blinking as his eyes struggled to adjust. He heard a voice, it sounded like... Cyrus?

Just as recognition dawned on him something obstructed the light above- landing on him and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"Good heavens- Alfyn?!" Cyrus slid off his poor apothecary friend who had broken his fall. Alfyn groaned in pain and Cyrus turned his attention to the figures looming above. "What is the meaning of this?"

Piercing red eyes stared down from above. "You should have known better than to stick your nose where it doesn't belong. I knew when I heard you were searching for _From the Far Reaches of Hell_ that it would lead you here..." Yvon considered him for a moment. "You're a bright man, Cyrus. The sort of man I wouldn't mind enlisting into my research. If you wish to work for me, I may be willing to overlook your trespasses."

"I am afraid I don't agree with your methods. Why is my friend already down here? Who else are you planning to lure to this death trap?" Cyrus received no answers, just a disappointed click of the tongue.

"A shame. Goodbye, Cyrus." Yvon moved away, the darkness returned.

Cyrus muttered, generating a small ember to light the space. He bent down, looking Alfyn over. He was pale, one of his ankles twisted at an odd angle. "Alfyn?" He gently nudged the apothecary in the shoulder. "Alfyn, can you hear me?"

Alfyn nodded, ever so slightly.

"Are you still able to move?" Another nod. "Your foot, we should tend to your injury before we start looking for a way out."

Alfyn pushed himself up again. When he spoke his voice was soft, small, barely there. "Yeah...okay."

Cyrus studied his friend's face, it was disturbing to see him so morose, defeated. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Alfyn's shoulder. "I don't know how long you've been down here, but, you're not alone anymore. We will find a way to get out of here. I'm going to take off your boot so we can get a better look at your injury, are you ready?"

A nod, Cyrus began removing the footwear as gently as he could manage. The professor frowned, the ankle was swollen up pretty badly. Alfyn likely wouldn't be able to walk without assistance.

"...they got him." Alfyn was so quiet Cyrus almost didn't notice he had begun talking. "Therion, he, Therion was with me. He tried to keep me from falling, but..." he took in a shaky breath, he sounded so tired. "That lady. Lucia. She- she cast a spell right against his head."

The hand on his shoulder returned, "Alfyn, listen to me. Therion is most likely still alive, but we are not going to find him if we stay down here. Focus on what we can do right now, do you think you can walk me through how to treat your ankle?"

 

  
Therion's head was pounding. He tried to gather his thoughts, piece together why he was in such a state and what was going on around him. It was like a bad hangover, but, he hadn't gone drinking- had he? Memories began to drift up, they had arrived in Stonegard. Chased after Hagen before he could cause a panic in town. Somebody followed the professor when he split off from the group, so he and Alfyn went after him. They met another scholar, she said she was there to help Cyrus. Him and Alfyn followed her to an old mansion. Therion didn't want to go in, but nothing was going to stop Alfyn when they heard the lady scream from inside.

And image flashed in his mind, desperately clinging to Alfyn's arm as he dangled over a dark pit. A hand coming to rest on the back of his head. It was the last thing he could remember. Did that mean...?

He would have lost his grip when he blacked out. There was no telling how far down the hole went. A terrible feeling settled in his gut as realization settled in his mind: Alfyn could have very well fallen to his death. He hadn't been able to keep him safe.

The realization made Therion want to curl in on himself, at which point he realized his arms had been locked into place above his head. Unforgiving metal around his wrists (the arm with the bangle was especially uncomfortable, the fool's bangle forced down his arm to make room for the new shackle). He cracked open his eyes, the dim candlelight too intense as he still struggled to recover from the impact of the spell he took. (Heartbeats in the room, he wasn't alone.) Cool air on his neck and arms alerted him that his scarf and mantel were gone.

The room slowly came into focus. Dark, cold, no windows- a dungeon or cellar? The room was filled with book shelves, thick tomes that couldn't fit stacked high on the floor beside them. An older man, thick set with dark hair, dressed in fancy scholar robes, stood at the room's center as he addressed some younger looking mages. He accepted something from one of the other mages before they scattered again, when he turned Therion felt his red eyes boring into him.

Red eyes. Hadn't Cyrus told him the headmaster of his school had red eyes? This must be Yvon then- what the hell had been going on at the royal academy?

"Ah- you woke up again after all. You are quite the curiosity- it's a shame Cyrus was trying to keep you hidden. Figures, the man so insistent on information being free and this is the thing he keeps to himself." Yvon walked forward slowly, casually, Therion realized the thing in his hand was a syringe.

He heard himself snarl as the man came to a stop, right in front of him. (Trapped, cornered, it was all he could think to do- puff up and bare his teeth.)

"Hold still, I'm not an idiot- I am only taking what I need for some tests." Yvon gripped his arm painfully tight, Therion hissed as the needle sank in. (The craving hated this. Being tied down. With his thoughts still scrambled it was difficult to hold the craving's reactions back.) "Hmph, do all thieves have the mannerisms of a feral cat or did Lucia simply fry your brain that badly?"

Therion was tempted to snap at him. ( _Mage, strong one, probably spicy like Cyrus. Not very tasty._ ) " **Fuck you** \- what the hell do you psychos want with me?"

The needle was removed and Yvon turned away, "So there is still some sort of human mind in there. I don't owe you explanation- it would be lost on a lowly street scrapper like you." He motioned one of his assistants over, requesting more materials.

He let out an irritated snort, then let his head drop. He had to steel himself, he didn't want to start crying in front of this asshole. It just had to be more mages, more necromancers. Only this time he got Alfyn caught up in this mess too, and because of that... Therion felt his eyes stinging, tears trying to well up. When Yvon came back to poke and prod at him with various other instruments he didn't even bother resisting, there was no point to it. He only had himself to blame, allowing himself to get roped into this disaster. At this point he was just getting what he deserved.

 

  
Alfyn sat with his back to the wall, the leg of his injured ankle stretched in front of him. Cyrus had done his best to bind it, and convinced him to drink some water and at least eat some grapes. The scholar in question was carefully scrutinizing every little brick and crack. With Alfyn's injury scaling the sheer face of the wall was out of the question (not that it was viable for either of them to begin with). As much as he looked, there did not seem to be any other way out of the pit than the way they had entered.

Cyrus sighed, sliding down the wall next to Alfyn. "I am going to have to admit, our situation seems bleak. We might have enough water between us to last another day, but after that...I am sorry, that you and Therion got mixed up in all of this."

"It ain't your fault. We shoulda gone t' get ya from the start." Alfyn tilted his head back, the light of Cyrus' fire allowed him to see just how far away the trap door was. "I thought, that since you worked with that lady, that it woulda been okay...don't think Therion trusted her. He was bein' pretty jumpy."

"I honestly thought I could trust her as well. Perhaps when all is said and done I should ask Therion for pointers on how to read others..." The professor let out a small, forced laugh.

There was a creak from above as the trap door was opened once more. A soft, unsure, feminine voice called down. "Professor?"

Cyrus' eyes went wide and he shot to his feet. "Therese?! Good heavens what are you doing here?"

"Hang on, I'm going to throw down a rope!" The girl disappeared from the opening.

"Therese? Hey, isn't that one of your students you told us about?" Alfyn leaned against the wall, trying to push himself up. Cyrus moved over to give him support.

"The very same, yes." Cyrus managed to pull Alfyn up on his working foot at a thick rope unraveled into the pit, just long enough to reach the bottom. He called up, "A friend of mine is trapped down here as well. He was injured in his fall, I am sending him up first!"

Climbing the rope was a struggle, but they both somehow managed the feat. Therese reached in, tugging first Alfyn, then Cyrus, up the rest of the way as they clamored over the edge. Once Cyrus was up, the trap door was closed so they couldn't fall back in, Therese tackled Cyrus and clung tight around his middle.

"Oh Professor I'm so glad you're safe! I went to try and clear up the rumors I started- but then I heard the headmaster talking about how he was planning to get rid of you! I wanted to warn you but I wasn't sure where to go so I tried just following the headmaster and-" She sniffled, tightening her grip.

Cyrus awkwardly patted her on the back, the hug seemed to make him uncomfortable. "I thank you for coming to our rescue, however I do not wish for you to put yourself in further danger by staying here. If you could escort my injured friend out, perhaps find the rest of our group, wait someplace safe. I need to track down our missing comrade."

"Whoa, hang on, Cyrus you ain't plannin' on goin' in there alone? This mess is just as much my fault-" Alfyn tried to stand, but collapsed when he tried to put weight on his ankle.

To Cyrus' relief Therese released him, "I don't think I could carry him out, but," she kneeled on the floor next to Alfyn, hands hovering over his ankle. "If I may- I've been trying to learn healing magic. I'm no cleric, but..."

She looked nervously up at Alfyn, who shot her a reassuring smile. "Heh, go ahead, ain't gonna make it worse at this point."

Therese nodded and muttered an incantation. A gentle, warm glow surrounded Alfyn's ankle. The apothecary sighed as the worse of the pain faded, soothed as the swelling went down and muscle and bone joined back together. It wasn't fully recovered when the spell ended, but it would be enough he could stand and walk again.

Alfyn got gingerly to his feet, "Alright... thank you so much. C'mon, Cyrus, we better hurry!" He bolted down the hall before Cyrus could object (okay, that hurt, but no time to waste!)

"Alfyn-!" Cyrus started to leave, then turned to his student. "Therese- I was traveling with five other individuals. A cleric, a merchant a little younger than you, a huntress accompanied by a snow leopard and dire wolf, a dancer in red, and a tall warrior. When you leave here see if you can find any of these individuals- they shall keep you safe. We shall talk more later."

"I- ah..." That was a...colorful collection of friends her dear professor had surrounded himself with. "Alright, please be careful!"

 

  
"What do you mean he _got out_?" Yvon was yelling at one of his assistants, furious. "Who was watching the entrance? No matter- stop him by any means. He's meddled in my affairs long enough. Fail and he won't be the only one rotting in the dungeon!" The young mage, eyes wide and fearful, nodded and hurried back out. Once the assistants were all gone the older man groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "It's just not possible to get good help these days."

"Yeah, because nothing encourages kids to do their best like death threats." The dry comment earned Therion a tired glare. Ah yes, that was a look he was used to. Just like old times.

"I don't recall asking for a smart-ass commentary. Shut up, or we'll find out if you can regrow your tongue." Yvon stormed off to another part of the room, digging into his coat.

"Go ahead and try, we can see if you grow back fingers." No response that time, Therion sighed. From what he had gathered from listening in, Cyrus had gotten his sorry ass caught too. Much like he and Alfyn had. He had also latched on to a vital piece of information: Cyrus had survived the fall into the pit. Chances are it was the same hole that Alfyn had fallen into, he could still be alive too. And now, it sounded like they had gotten out.

They would come for him.

It was enough for him to start giving Yvon grief in any way he could. He nearly bit him once already, when he tried to get a closer look at his teeth. (And just who was the fool there, really.)

Yvon returned, turning a familiar red crystal in his fingers. It was like the stones that necromancer had been making in Quarrycrest, what was he doing with it? "We'll see if you still have a smart mouth while you're being vivisected." He gripped the stone in his palm as hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway.

Cyrus and Alfyn appeared in the doorway. (And it was a relief, seeing that Alfyn was, in fact, still alive.) The professor held up his arm to keep Alfyn from rushing forward, eyes locked firmly on his (likely former) boss.

"Headmaster Yvon, I shall ask you but once to release my friend." Did Cyrus seriously think this guy was about to listen to reason?

"I can't do that, Cyrus. The existence of a vampire, mind still intact, is a discovery I am not about to let slip away. As for the two of you..." Yvon took a step forward, holding up the blood crystal once more. "I fear you two have seen too much to live."

The stone shattered, blood red light enveloping the headmaster. (The magic felt familiar, it made Therion's hairs stand on end.) He roared in agony as his form shifted, the sound of bones snapping echoed in the room as he expanded out. What stood in his place as the light faded could only be described as a monstrosity. His skin had gone ashen, streaked by lines of blood magic coursing through his body. His arms, too long for his body, were now built like tree trunks. The muscles of his body twitched, Yvon roared and swept an arm at Cyrus and Alfyn. His movements looked unnatural, like he wasn't fully in control.

They weren't able to move out of the way, the impact sending both men flying into one of the numerous bookcases. The shelf tipped, papers fluttered in the air.

Therion was struggling against his bindings with renewed vigor- what the fuck did he just do to himself?! ( _He hurt Alfyn, was going to kill him, he needed to get out, get free-_ ) There was a beastly snarl and Yvon staggered back as a blast of flames flew up from where Cyrus and Alfyn had landed. While the creature was distracted Alfyn slipped past, running with a limp in his step to where Therion was bound.

Alfyn was panicking, he looked around briefly before he started hitting at the metal shackles with the butt end of his axe.

"Alfyn, hey! Try, try to calm down." Another roar shook the room and he heard Cyrus shout, the crack of a lightning spell being cast. Therion shook his head, "If you break them wrong they might not come off even when unlocked. We need to either pick the locks or get the keys from tall, gray, and ugly."

"Shit, I just," Alfyn took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He jumped at the sound of one of the wooden bookcases being shattered and Yvon snarling in frustration.

Therion eyed the monster, Yvon was so focused on the professor he had his back to them. It would be dangerous to get into close range, but maybe... "I have an idea- remember that game we played in Sunshade? Take my dagger, you're gonna have one shot so make it count."

Alfyn's eyes went wide, and he looked back at the battle. His aim wasn't that great, but it was worth a shot. "Okay...okay." He reached for Therion's dagger, then paused. "But in case this doesn't go well," he pressed a quick kiss to Therion's cheek, "I love ya, you remember that."

"...I love you too, go show that monster what you've got." Therion crossed his fingers and prayed to Aeber as Alfyn turned around, winding up for his throw. (He didn't know if even the patron of thieves would listen to him anymore, but he was going to take all the luck he could get.)

Alfyn sent the knife flying, sailing through the air until it found its mark- sinking into Yvon's neck. The monstrosity screeched, writhing, bits of his body began to crumble away into dust.

"No, no it's not possible!" Yvon grasped at himself, as though he might be able to keep himself from falling apart. "I am supposed to be invincible! Immortal! Lies, they were all lies-" His words became undecipherable as he fell to the ground, dissolving, until all that was left was a terrible, deafening silence.

Cyrus stood on the other side of the pile, eyes wide and spell tome at the ready. (The smell of blood, he had gotten some scrapes at the least.) He slowly lowered his book, tucking it away back in his coat. "That was. Unexpected."

Therion whistled, impressed. "That was a good throw. Now...I'd like to get the fuck down now."


	19. Of Men and Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning! *slams chapter down*

Therion fell against Alfyn as the shackles were released. Arms wrapped around him and he returned the embrace, clinging tight and burying his face into the apothecary's shoulder. (His heart was still racing from the fight. It drove the craving crazy, he didn't want to let go.) Cyrus muttered to himself in the background, recent events bringing many more questions to light. Just what had Yvon been told, been promised, and by whom? He could only speculate that his transformation had been as much a surprise to himself as it had been to them.

Alfyn gave one last squeeze before letting go, moving instead to hold one of Therion's hands as he turned around. His eyes lingered on the pile of dust and clothing- all that remained of the former headmaster. "...sorry, for killing your boss, Cyrus."

Cyrus snapped out of his muttering and shook his head. "I don't think he intended to let us leave alive. Besides, whatever he did to himself with that blood crystal..." He looked down at the dust pile, contemplative, "I truly believe you may have done him a mercy. His body wasn't stable."

"He turned himself into a monster..." Therion found himself gripping Alfyn's hand tight. (Now that the danger had passed the craving was starting to claw at his mind, he needed blood. _Alfyn was right there, right there!_ ) Just how close was he, to being like him? The way he had moved, like something else was trying to puppet his motions.

"He turned himself into a veritable demon. Is this the sort of knowledge that is held within _From the Far Reaches of Hell_? This sort of necromancy and blood magic, it goes far beyond anything I have heard of before." Cyrus began walking around, inspecting the remnants of the library. Many of the shelves had been shattered, knocked over, or marred by magic spells.

A demon... something clicked in Therion's mind. Consideration of how the craving seemed to have a mind of its own. The magic released when the blood crystal shattered felt like the same kind that had turned him into a vampire. What if the spell did drag something else, something demonic, into their bodies? What if... the lack of control Yvon had. Did the potency of the blood crystal boost the power of whatever demon he had welcomed into his mind? Was that why the man had fared so poorly? Lost his humanity so easily?

He felt Alfyn squeeze his hand back. "Something on your mind, Ther?"

Therion shook his head. "It's...nothing." He hadn't mentioned the craving, the voice, to the others. How could he even go about explaining something like that, without sounding completely insane? And what would they do with the knowledge that the monster they caught sight of back in Quarrycrest was still lurking in his head? They...probably wouldn't care. Even so it wasn't something he felt comfortable bringing up, not now. "We about ready to get out of here?"

"There does not seem to be anything else of note here... ah, yes, we have been gone for some time. Our other companions are likely worried." Cyrus carefully stepped over piles of ruined books on his way to the doorway. "We are going to have quite the task, explaining this to the guards..."

  
When they left the mansion it was dark, quarter moon hanging high in the sky. It had been just a little before noon when they got to town, when Therion and Alfyn had gotten themselves captured. Just how long had he been knocked out for, how long was Alfyn alone in that pit? It had to have been hours. They encountered Olberic on their way back, intercepted on his way to look for them while the others kept an eye on Cyrus' wayward student.

The others, plus Therese, were waiting for them in the inn common room. H'aanit and Linde stood on alert near the door while Primrose, Ophilia, and Tressa sat at a table with Therese. Talking to her, reassuring her. Primrose's hand moved to her knife as they entered.

Therion winced, being in the same room as Ophilia's lantern was unbearable.

There was a bit of commotion as the others welcomed them back, during which Therion slipped through the cluster of his friends to make a mad dash for the stairs. Once he reached the top and turned a corner he felt slightly better, less like he wanted to dive out the nearest window. He leaned against the wall, he had run up here but he didn't know what rooms they had rented.

"Hey, you holdin' up okay?" When Alfyn made his way up the stairs he was no longer limping. Ophilia must have healed him up. "Got our room key from Tressa, and they saved us some bread and smoked meats from dinner, bet you could use a quick bite before bed."

Therion huffed, smiling to himself. "In more ways than one. Lead the way."

 

  
Alfyn chuckled nervously over their shared meal. "Shucks, Therion, do you gotta keep lookin' at me like that?"

"Like what?" He really could not help it, now that they were alone in the room the craving hadn't stopped screaming at him to just pounce. **Bite.** Revel in those wonderful sounds Alfyn made. Therion tried to focus on his sandwich instead.

"Like- well, you almost look like Linde when she's stalkin' somethin'." It was a fair comparison, really. "Heh, you need blood that badly?"

Therion smirked, he really loved how he could make Alfyn's heart skip just by showing his teeth. How easy it was to make his face go red. "Just finish your dinner, medicine man. We can worry about that later."

 

  
The voice of the craving wouldn't let up all through their meal. When Alfyn was done eating and stood to get ready for bed, turning his back on him as he stripped off his vest, it became impossible to resist. Therion rushed forward, tackling Alfyn. The apothecary gave a surprised yelp as he was shoved forward onto the bed. Therion nuzzled his face into his back, rumbling with a satisfied growl as he squirmed forward to press kisses to Alfyn's neck.

He felt Alfyn shudder and relax below him. Those wonderful little sounds, small gasps and hitched breaths mixed with bit back groans, were back. Alfyn whined as Therion gave his neck a few teasing nips. (The craving was excited, it didn't want to wait, but those noises- they were so good.) "Therion..." Alfyn squirmed, tilting his head to expose more of his neck. Pressing into the contact. "C'mon, don't- don't ya know not t' play with your food?"

Therion snorted out a small laugh. "I've never had good table manners, have I?" He lightly grazed his teeth against Alfyn's neck again before finally biting down. He purred, licking slowly at the wound. Savoring the taste. (He could swear that there was almost a cool, mint-like flavor- maybe from Alfyn's ice magic?) Alfyn moaned and whined underneath him, with the damage Therion had taken this was going to be a longer feeding.

He trailed one of his hands down Alfyn's body, curving around his hip to palm at the lump that was forming in the apothecary's pants. Alfyn whined, pressing into Therion's hand. He growled, grinding his own hips forward as he worked to remove Alfyn's belt. His pulse was racing against his tongue, his lips, as he continued to feed. Alfyn moaned loud as Therion at last undid his belt and laces, the thief stroking up his length with a practiced grip. He tried to keep his motions slow, drawing it out and drinking in the increasing levels of desperation, of need, in Alfyn's voice.

"Oh- oh gods- _Therion_ -" Alfyn pressed his face into a pillow he had dragged over, muffling his louder sounds. Therion ground his hips forward again, humming as he felt Alfyn press back to meet him.

He pressed a kiss to the bite wound, licking the blood from his lips as he leaned back, tugging down Alfyn's pants as he reached for the bottle of oil on the night stand. (Gods bless Alfyn for digging it out when they first got to the room.) "You seem to be enjoying yourself a lot, for someone at the mercy of a bloodthirsty monster."

Alfyn hummed as he began prodding at his hole with slick fingers, "w-worth it, you're-" words failed him as Therion slipped his first finger in, pressing into that sensitive spot. "oh gods, you're, you're an amazin' person, Therion..."

He leaned forward, pushing up Alfyn's shirt with his free hand to press kisses to his bare back. "Hmm, y'know, I've swiped more than my fair share of treasures..." Alfyn groaned as he slipped a second finger in, stretching him out. "You might just be the best treasure I've managed to nab." He gently nipped at Alfyn's back, causing the apothecary to flinch and gasp. Tensing slightly around his fingers.

Alfyn let out a breathy laugh, "y' didn't have t' steal me-" a gasp as Therion moved further up, nipping at his shoulder, "gods, Therion, 'm happy just t' be with ya...I- I love ya, remember?"

Therion made his way back to the bite wound, giving it another lick. "Yeah, and we love you too..." He reached back around, stroking Alfyn's cock again as his fingers ground into his sensitive spot. Alfyn shuddered hard, pressing his face back down into the pillow.

He went back to feeding as he slowly stretched Alfyn out. By the time he was done Alfyn was whining again, grinding back against the three fingers he had him stretched around. Therion leaned back again, taking in the sight before him. He unlatched his own belt, letting it drop to the floor. Alfyn made a disappointed sound as he removed his hand, pausing briefly to coat himself in more oil and line himself up.

Therion gripped Alfyn's hips tight, easing himself inside. ( _Slow to start, they didn't want to hurt Alfyn._ ) One small thrust at a time, until he was completely surrounded in the warmth, the pressure, the pounding pulse. It wasn't enough, Therion leaned forward and pressed his chest to Alfyn's back. Pressed more kisses to his shoulder as he began to move. Alfyn muffled his shouts into his pillow as the pace increased, occasionally managing to gasp out Therion's name, for him to go faster, _harder_. Requests that Therion was all too happy to fulfill. Therion was purring again, he could feel the rumbling in his chest.

With a final shout Alfyn tensed, spilling onto the sheets below and Therion released inside him. The shouts and moans were replaced by the sounds of their panting breaths, the rumble of Therion's content purrs.

"Say...Therion? Could, could ya let me up real quick?" Alfyn spoke between tired, panting breaths. Therion nodded, carefully slipping himself out before rolling to the side. (The voice was disappointed, _they snuggled longer the last couple times._ ) Alfyn gingerly pushed himself up, smiled at him, then crawled over to wrap Therion in a hug, pulling him against his chest and pressing kisses to the top of his head. "Mmm, thanks." ( _Oh. Oh that was better._ )

 

Therion was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming, which was strange, had he ever been aware like this before? Wherever he was in the dream was dark, the smell of blood lingered in the air. He began walking, feeling slightly annoyed. His first lucid dream and it was incredibly boring. There was the sound of something moving in the dark, something large dragging long claws. He turned, trying to pinpoint the source, but wherever he was allowed to sound to bounce and echo all around him. The ground shook, he felt warm breath on the back of his neck. He spun around, coming face to face with a massive bat-like creature.

He should have been afraid. The creature was pale, blood red runes streaking across its body in a manner that reminded Therion of chains. Its eyes, large and catlike, glowed a similar red. The creature felt familiar, somehow. "Well, what do you want?"

The beast blinked, snorted more air in his face, then dropped to the floor. If this was what he thought it was, it sure picked a hell of a time to be quiet. The craving never shut up when he wanted it to.

Words drifted into his mind. _'thank you.'_ That- what? Why the hell would it be thanking him? _'Let me out today. Play with Grass Man. Thank you.'_

Therion woke up, confused and disturbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...*whispers* batcat is canon now.


	20. Stone and Sand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A more or less peaceful little break before we get to Goldshore.

Try as he might, Therion wasn't able to fall back to sleep after that dream. Should he be worried, about just what it could mean? It was a dream, maybe he was thinking too much into it. Then again the craving had influenced his dreams in the past, but it had also never been so direct. What did it mean, that he let it out? He hadn't lost control, or at least didn't do anything he didn't want to do. He was still the one in control. Wasn't he? The voice of the craving offered no answers.

He needed to be more careful, if he wound up hurting Alfyn, or any of his friends- he wasn't sure he'd be able to live with that. The craving was, he was pretty sure now, a demon- it was dangerous, wasn't it?

Alfyn made a soft sound in his sleep, curling more around him. Therion sighed and settled into the warmth. Morning light slowly lit up their room, should he get up for morning training? He didn't want to wake up Alfyn, he needed his sleep after yesterday. (It was also tempting to just stay there, wrapped up in his arms like he was something precious. Feeling warm. Safe. Wanted.)

 

  
Surprisingly, Therion and Alfyn were not the last ones down to breakfast the following morning. Olberic and H'aanit were just settling into their chairs, Linde curling up under the table. Primrose shot them a knowing smirk as they came down the stairs (she always knew, didn't she?), gave a polite wave, then went back to a conversation she was having with Ophilia.

Tressa looked up from her breakfast and quirked an eyebrow. "Alfyn, you're still limping? I thought Phili healed you up last night."

Primrose started giggling while Alfyn flushed a bright red. "She- ah- she did. My ankle's right as rain now."

Okay, there was no way Therion was going to be the one to try to explain this to Tressa. "Say, where's Albright? Not like him to be a layabout." He settled into a seat and reached for an apple from a bowl on the table.

Olberic gave a tired sigh. "He was up late reading. I found him face down in his book when I woke this morning."

"Oh, that's no good. He really shoulda slept after yesterday." Alfyn speared himself a sausage, then glanced around the room. "Say, where's Hagen? Come t' think of it, he wasn't here last night either, was he?"

H'aanit had a somber look on her face. "We founde mine master, Z'aanta. Hagen is his loyal companion, must as Linde is mine dear friend. Z'aanta... the man was turnen to stone. Hagen standens watch over him, until we finden a cure."

The apothecary stopped mid bite, "To...stone?"

The huntress nodded. "Aye. Tis a power of the dread beast Redeye witchen he hunted. Master Z'aanta leften a letter, a seer in Stillsnow may knowen how to helpen."

A monster that turned people to stone. Therion couldn't help but wonder, how could they even be sure those people were still alive?

"Hey, hold up, you guys changed the subject! Why is Alfyn limping again- what did you do, Therion?" Tressa's tone and glare were accusing. Damn, he kept forgetting it wasn't so easy to pull one past her. Olberic coughed, looking away.

Therion rolled his eyes. Fine. If she insisted. "Well, when two people love each other very much- or find each other attractive- or if you pay a-"

"Oooookay! Say, is that mixed berry jam?" Alfyn reached for a jar on the table, swearing as he knocked over his water glass in the process. He moved to wipe up the water, knocking over his plate. An eager paw shot out from under the table at the lost sausage. Ophilia was completely red, eyes going wide as Therion had started his spiel. H'aanit was shaking her head, Olberic had brought up a hand to cover his face, Primrose looked torn between wanting to stab him or laughing harder.

Tressa, he watched, looked a little confused, then realization dawned as her eyes slowly went wide. Ah, so the young merchant wasn't _completely_ innocent.

Therion snorted and started laughing. That look really was priceless.

It was at that point that Cyrus, still rather tired looking, made his way down the stairs. He stared for a moment, much as the few other patrons milling about were, before making his way to the table and taking the remaining seat next to Therion. "My goodness, it would seem I have missed something here. What happened?"

Tressa blurted out her answer, slamming her hands into the table. "Alfyn has a limp because **_HE AND THERION HAD SEX!_** "

Alfyn buried his face in his arms on the table. Therion couldn't keep himself from laughing harder, good gods did she seriously just shout that? (When was the last time he laughed like this?) He sank into his scarf as the giggles gradually faded, it was hilarious. It was mortifying. The rest of the table had gone quiet. Well, that was one way to start the day.

 

  
The rest of the day dragged on, Cyrus insisted that they had to alert the local guards to what happened. Make sure word made it back to Atlasdam, in case Lucia resurfaced there- and ensure his student made it back home safely. Unfortunately he couldn't do this alone, oh no, since he and Alfyn were there too they had to give their own rundown of events. Therion was never too fond of guards, chalk it up to the corrupt ones he grew up with at home- and the fact most guards didn't take too kindly to thieves. He could feel them eyeing his bangle, heard them muttering over how he kept his face hidden.

It wound up taking up most of the day, and since he was pretty sure the guards were now looking for any excuse to lock him up he decided not to make his usual rounds. Instead he tagged along with Alfyn as the apothecary chatted to the townspeople, seeking out anyone who might require his services. At one point he came across a local apothecary and the two of them talked for a while- where they were from, how they got into medicine, difficult cases they had to deal with in the past and how they managed to treat them. More or less trading notes. Therion couldn't really say he could follow everything, but he recognized a few key words from when Alfyn would talk about plants on the road. He filed away information for later as he stood by, scanning the surrounding area. Lucia was still at large, after all, as were most of Yvon's little assistants. (They had looked pretty young, if they were smart they made a run for it when things went south.)

 

  
Therion frowned at his dwindling coin purse. Inn fees, meals, supplies for the road, it was all slowly eating away at the groups' savings. "Well, hope you made some decent sales, because thanks to Cyrus I'm one tiny mistake away from being dragged off to the gaol."

"Well, it would only serve you right!" Tressa was writing down they day's expenses in her ledger and pouted. "We've got enough for now, but Goldshore has some pretty pricey rooms. Especially if people are going to be visiting for the Kindling- it's a pretty popular spot for merchants and tourists. Maybe if we stay here a few more days, we can build up some savings..."

"After your little announcement this morning, I don't want to keep showing my face around here." He reached into his mantel, searching out the right pocket. "Here, maybe these can help boost our coffers." He dropped a small handful of brilliant green stones in the middle of the table.

Tressa's eyes went wide. "Wh- Skystones?! Where did you- you jerk, did you take these from me in Quarrycrest?!"

Therion smirked, leaning back in his chair. "Guilty as charged. Think of this as a lesson. These stones sold well enough in the town you found them in- a mining town where ores and stones are all over the place. Just think what you could get for them out where the market isn't already saturated with similar goods."

Tressa had locked on to him with an annoyed glare, he waited for her to just try and argue. "I can't believe a thief is giving me a lecture in supply and demand." She reached forward, gathering up the stones.

"Hey, gotta know how to sell, where to sell, and how much things are worth in my line of work. Otherwise you get screwed over and you're out a decent meal or place to sleep." It was a hard learned lesson, typically fences only paid a small fraction of what an item was actually worth. Getting a fairer price was a war of words, intimidation, and sometimes knives if things got really heated.

"Hmm. You ever consider changing careers, putting your skills to work more honestly?"

Therion scoffed. "With my reputation? I think my chances of being an honest merchant passed long ago."

"Well, you never know. I met this amazing merchant back in Rippletide- he's kinda the reason I wanted to go on a journey to begin with? Captain Leon, turns out he was a pirate for years! A really well known one too. So, I wouldn't say you're completely a lost cause."

"Well, I'm sure I'll win many customers over with my winning smile." He tugged up on his scarf, he had become a little more lax on letting it drop lately. He was pretty sure he had spooked a few people because of it.

Tressa giggled, "You can be the town cryptid! I'm gonna go talk to Prim, see if she managed to earn any tips." She picked up the ledger and began to walk away. "You can put on a pretty friendly face when you want to, I bet you'd do better than you think as a merchant."

 

  
They set out for Goldshore the following morning. According to their map and the trail markers the trip should only take a couple more days. Therion tried to tick off days in his head, it had been... he wanted to say maybe two weeks since he delivered the first dragon stone? Damn, it felt like it had been longer, so much had happened. That also meant there was still time to burn until the black market arrived in Wellspring.

When they made their way into the Coastlands they were greeted by dunes of golden sands, rocky outcrops, and tropical looking coastal plants. Gulls and birdians glided on the winds overhead, large crabs scuttled along the banks. Therion immediately took note of the remains of shipwrecks, old and new, that had been washed up on the shore. He and Tressa both would break away from the group, taking a closer look for potential treasures.

"Hey, hey Therion! Check this out!" Tressa sounded pretty excited, did she find something good? Therion looked up from the trunk he was working to lockpick, then startled back when a small crab made to snip at his nose. Tressa started laughing, and Therion retaliated with the nearest thing at hand: he threw a wad of seaweed at her.

 

  
Therion grumbled as Alfyn tried, carefully, to detangle the poor crab from his hair. Tressa sat in a similar situation as Ophilia helped to comb the copious amount of sand and bits of plant matter out of her hair. The others had started getting ready to camp for the evening. Primrose was setting up a fire pit while Cyrus and Olberic got the tents ready. H'aanit had ventured off with Linde to hunt something down for dinner.

"There ya go little guy." Alfyn released the little crab which quickly scuttled away. He chuckled and kept running his hands through Therion's hair. "Shucks, this sand just gets everywhere. You're all gritty."

Therion grumbled but leaned into Alfyn's hands. (At the back of his mind, very soft, the craving was purring.) "What, I wasn't gritty before?"

Alfyn laughed and pressed a kiss to the back of his head. "Oh, you act all rough but we just gotta take it with a grain of salt."

Ophilia giggled while Tressa let out an annoyed groan. "Guh, you're both awful!"

"Aw, c'mon Tressa. We can't help but being sediment-al!" Alfyn laughed, dropping his arms to hang loosely around Therion's shoulders.

Therion settled back into the warmth, smiling and laughing himself. (At the back of his mind the purring of The Craving got louder. It seemed content. Relaxed by the warmth and gentle pulse.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not pictured: Olberic shaking his head and tucking a sleeping Cyrus into bed.


	21. Fatherly

Goldshore came into view as the midday sun hung high in the sky. It was a glorious day, the summer heat cooled by a briny breeze coming off the sea. The town was bustling with other travelers and locals, like Tressa had said it seemed a popular stop for folks on vacation and merchants. All the better for him, really, it would give Therion something to do while the others attended the Kindling.

Alfyn paused while the rest of the group continued ahead, taking a moment to stretch and take in the scenery. "This town sure is lively! Heh, say Therion we should go for a swim while we're here! Bet the water's great!"

"You're going to get your clothes full of sand, you know that, right?" A side conversation caught Therion's ear and he gave Alfyn a nudge and motioned towards a group of locals. "Sounds like you got here just in time."

"...old Zeke's caught it too. Fever's infected a good ten people this past week!"

"Lucky for us I hear there's a travelin' apothecary in town. Apparently she really knows her stuff, too, cured one boy's fever overnight!"

Overnight? Therion wasn't an expert but he was pretty sure fevers had a tendency to stick around.

"Sounds like I've got a colleague in town, we'll have to talk shop if we find her!" Alfyn adjusted his satchel and started walking again.

At that point a little girl rushed up the stairs from the beach. Therion winced as she slipped on the cobblestone, falling forward and sending a shell skittering along the ground in front of her. (The smell of blood, she must have scraped a knee.) She pushed herself up, whimpering, looking on the verge of tears.

Therion lingered back as Alfyn approached, kneeling down in front of the little girl and picking up the dropped shell. "Gosh, that was quite the spill you took there. Here, you dropped something- wow what a pretty seashell! You find it yourself?" The little girl nodded and took back the shell. "Looks like you scraped up your knee a bit, mind if I see?" Sure enough, the girl's knee was all scratched up and bleeding. Alfyn remained calm and kept smiling as he got out materials to clean and disinfect the scrape. "Oh, I bet that smarts. I know how it is, I'm always falling over my own two feet."

It was a marvel to behold, just how good Alfyn was working with the kid. She actually smiled and giggled, and soon enough Alfyn had her all patched up. "That'll do 'er. One of my best healing balms there, you're gonna be just fine. What's your name?"

"My name's Ellen- are you a medicine man, mister?" The little girl, Ellen, looked up at Alfyn with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Heh, kinda, my name's Alfyn. I'm a traveling apothecary. I help people who are sick or hurt."

Ellen lit up, "Oh! Maybe you can help my sister! Flynn's been sick in bed all week- but you can help make her better, right?"

Therion watched as little Ellen dragged Alfyn away by the hand to her home. Well, looked like he had his work cut out for him today. He started to leave when the door opened again, the girl's mother shoving Alfyn out before slamming the door closed behind him.

"...well, that was fast." And different, Alfyn got along pretty well with most people.

Alfyn sighed and fell into step next to him. "Her daughter already got treated, which I mean- that's good." A pause. "Guess Ellen's mom wasn't too happy that she brought a stranger home. But still... am I scruffy?"

"You've got that charming backwoods hobo look going for you." Therion reached over and pat Alfyn on the shoulder. "Hey, it's a big town. You'll find someone who wants your help."

  
They found their way to the wealthier side of town, at which point the encountered a crowd of people. (A perfect opportunity for Therion, really.) Drawing closer they heard the people showering someone with praise, thanks for treating the fevers their loved ones had suffered from and amazement over how small the price of the cure was. Sounded like this other apothecary was a follower of Alfyn's charitable philosophy.

He slipped some leaves into a pocket and the crowd parted, revealing a woman with dark, long, braided hair with an apothecary's satchel worn over her shoulder. Alfyn gave his usual smiley greeting, and everything was going fine until Alfyn asked just what she used to cure the town's fever.

She kept a calm expression, but Therion heard her heartbeat spike. The woman, miss Vanessa Hysel, shook her head. "Oh, I am _terribly_ sorry, but that's a trade secret. You know how it is, don't need competitors stepping on your toes."

Alfyn was about to let it go, but not Therion. This was complete bullshit. "Oh really? Last apothecary we met had no problem sharing what they knew. Isn't it better to let others in the business know how to best help their patients?"

Vanessa frowned at him. "Well, I'm not some backwoods quack salver. I am a professional- these recipes are closely guarded family secrets. Now if you... _gentlemen_ will excuse me. I am very busy." She walked past, shoving Therion aside on the way.

The crowd dispersed, leaving just Therion and Alfyn standing in the road. Alfyn rubbed the back of his head. "Well, that coulda gone better. Did ya have to press her like that?"

Therion grumbled and crossed his arms. "Come on, that was suspicious. She goes on about helping others on charity, but then she can't tell you what she used because then she won't be able to sell her own shit? Her heart was racing too- like we caught her doing something."

"Well so far it really looks like all she's done is help out the folks here. Maybe we just made her nervous? Heh, we both kinda have that scruffy hobo look going." Therion wanted to argue, but he could tell he still had sand in his hair. On his clothes. Under the bandages he kept on his wrists. He likely didn't smell too great either, stinking of sweat and brine from digging around in the shipwrecks.

"Alright, maybe we should both stop by the inn and rent a bath."

  
On the way back a familiar young voice called for their attention. "Oh, oh, mister pock-a-terry!" They turned around and sure enough the little girl from earlier was running their way, waving her arm wildly.

"Heh, just Alfyn is fine- how're you doing, Ellen?" He stooped down like he had earlier when talking to her.

"I wanted to say sorry, Alfyn, I didn't know another pock-a-terry was in town." Ellen glanced up at Therion and took a small step back. She motioned Alfyn closer and whispered in his ear.

Alfyn laughed, "Aw, he only looks scary. That's Therion, he's my friend!" Well, a bit more than just friends at this point really. "And don't worry, the important thing is that Flynn is on the mend. I bet she'll be able to play with ya again in no time!"

"Yeah! Me and Flynn like to gather shells together. We give them to our mama, so she can sell them. Sometimes, sometimes she cries at night because we're so poor." Therion doubted the shells they found had much, if any, value- especially around here.

Alfyn rubbed the back of his neck. "Does she, now?"

Ellen nodded. "Yeah. Money is super important for adults. Do you have money, Alfyn?"

"Oh, I get by." If it wasn't for the support of the entire group Alfyn wouldn't have been able to get this far. He'd accept payment sometimes, but is wasn't anything really profitable. Enough that he could pay for his share of a meal or for a few drinks if the day had been good.

"...you're poor too, aren't you?" Therion disguised a laugh as a cough. Children really had no filters.

"Okay you got me, but let me tell ya- all the leaves in the world couldn't replace your loved ones. They're what's really important." He looked over at Therion, smiling, and Therion tucked into his scarf as his face went flush.

Ellen nodded, looking like she was committing the words to heart. "I'm gonna go find an extra pretty shell for Flynn! So she can feel better even faster!" She ran off, quickly as she came, back towards the shore.

 

 

Therion toweled off his hair, it was a relief to wash away days of grime from traveling- and the salt and sand from the tussle he got into with Tressa the other day. "You're pretty good with kids. Thought for sure she was going to start screaming when you walked over to her."

"Well," there was a slosh as Alfyn dumped some water over his head, rinsing away suds. "heh, guess it kinda comes from experience? Kids can get pretty scared when they get sick or hurt, you just gotta keep calm and reassure them they'll be alright. They're young, they don't know a scraped knee ain't gonna kill 'em. Especially if the adults make a big fuss that they got hurt- then that makes them scared it is somethin' bad."

"And if it is something bad? What do you do then?" Therion dug out a clean pair of small clothes from his pack to begin dressing.

"You still gotta stay calm, for one. Sometimes ya just gotta do your best, but kids are smart. They can work out when things ain't workin' out well. Best t' be honest with 'em, like ya would with any adult." Alfyn stood, picking up his towel. "Sometimes ya gotta let 'em know how serious somethin' can get, cuz sometimes they get hurt doin' somethin' they ain't supposed t' and they try an' hide that they're hurt so they don't get in trouble. Which, ya gotta reassure 'em that their safety is your only concern."

Therion hummed, shaking sand out of his pants. "Sounds like you've worked with kids a lot, figuring all of that out."

Alfyn nodded, "Zeph had t' raise his baby sister, Nina, after his parents died. My ma gave us both a lotta lessons on helpin' to raise her. Which really helped a lot when we got older, lotta kids in Clearbrook. Seen plenty of scrapes and stuffy noses." He reached for his satchel to redress the newest bite on his neck. (Therion couldn't help but take note of the scars on his neck and shoulder, there was an odd sense of...satisfaction?) "Actually, right before I left little Nina got herself a bad snakebite. Her friend she had been playin' with didn't want t' say where they went- had t' explain to her that there wasn't much we could do if we didn't know what snake got her. Turned out she got bit by a blotted viper while picking waterblooms for her brother. They're Zeph's favorites, make a good bitters and look lovely to boot, but the place they grow- well there's a reason we tell kids t' stay outta there. Lotta snakes like t' nest out there."

"Sounds like Nina and her friend get up to trouble like you and Zeph did."

"Ha- that she does! She's a good kid, bright too, she'll be a good apothecary herself if she wants. Already loves t' help us find medicinal herbs, sometimes she'll go with Zeph when he see patients. Loves to help out." Alfyn turned around to face him, drying his own hair, and his smile was so bright. He always looked so happy, talking about his hometown. "I'll have to introduce ya next time we're in Clearbrook- shucks, Zeph's gonna be surprised."

Therion pulled on his shirt and reached for the wrappings he kept on his wrists. People tended to stare at the scars if he left them bare. "What, you never tell him you're into guys?"

Alfyn chuckled as his face went red, "Nah, he figured that out before I did, actually. Just, who woulda thought I'd wind up dating the stranger I found passed out in the road the first day I set out?"

Who indeed, Therion didn't expect to get so close either. To any of them, really, but he found himself sucked in anyway. He smiled, throwing on his mantel and scarf. "Say, if you still want to try swimming while we're here I bet someone in town sells swimwear. Why don't we hit up the shops, my treat."

 

  
There was another crowd gathered when Therion and Alfyn made their way back into the north side of town. The tone of the shouts was different from before. Not praise, but pleas for help. Worry. Fear. Apparently the fever had been replaced by a new illness- a terrible cough that wouldn't go away. Those infected scarce able to breath. Vanessa was once again at the middle of the crowd.

"...yes, yes I've heard of these symptoms before. It sounds like whopping cough, it hails from far to the south. I have the cure, but, I'm afraid the ingredients are very rare and hard to come by." She pulled a small, elegant looking vial from her satchel. "As such it comes at a hefty sum, I would be willing to go as low as one hundred thousand leaves per vial."

Therion stuttered- the medicine was how much?! That was obscene- and out the corner of his eye he could see that Alfyn was stunned as well. So much for charity. Even so the gathered aristocrats parted with their leaves willingly- anything to save their loved ones.

Lingering at the back of the crowd was the woman that had shoved Alfyn out of her home just a couple hours earlier. She looked haggard, tired, and so desperate. "E-excuse me, Miss Hysel, I think... Flynn has come down with the cough as well. Please, I know it's not near enough, but it's all the savings I have- if she could just have a sip-"

Vanessa made an expression that was a mockery of concern, "oh, that is a _shame_. But I'm afraid my supply is low and the demand is, as you see, quite high. I simply cannot part with the cure for such a _meager_ sum."

The woman's expression dropped and she took a step back, leaving as the crowd swallowed Vanessa back up. It was heartbreaking. It was all too familiar. Seeking out help, only to be turned away. Alfyn looked between the crowd and the woman, angry and genuinely concerned, before he made his decision and followed Ellen's mother. Therion trailed behind. Damn it all if he wasn't feeling worried too.

The woman had found a quiet, secluded spot. She collapsed to her knees, sobbing, begging to the gods to have mercy. (A pang in his chest, memories of the past. He had been there. The gods didn't listen.)

Alfyn approached, "Hey, ah, I know I ain't no god but... one scruffy, backwoods apothecary at your service. If you'll have me."

The woman seemed surprised that someone had been listening, but once the shock passed she did not have to consider for long. "...I am sorry, for earlier, if you think you can help my daughter." She led them back to her home, and while she did eye Therion out the corner of her eye she did not object to him entering.

Ellen looked up from where she was sitting at her sister's beside. (Twins, her and Flynn were mirror images of each other.) "Mama! Alfyn! Alfyn's friend?" She was interrupted as Flynn started up coughing, the hard coughs shook through her small body. It didn't seem like the fit was going to stop. "You're here to help Flynn, right? She, she hasn't stopped coughing..."

"I'm gonna do the best I can." Alfyn walked over, checking Flynn's pulse and feeling for a fever. He was frowning. "Hm, when did this start? She looked right as rain when I stopped by earlier."

The way the little girl kept coughing, Therion was pretty sure it was only a matter of time before something came up. He spotted an unused bucket and brought it over, passing it over just in time. Flynn gripped the bucket, whining and drooling, the coughing still wouldn't stop.

"It started up about half an hour ago, though she was complaining her throat was bothering her not long after you left..." The mother stooped next to Alfyn, a hand on Ellen's shoulder. "Is it the whopping cough? Are you going to be able to treat it?"

"I wonder... do you have any of the medicine Miss Hysel gave you left?" Alfyn seemed to have an idea, and Therion was starting to see it too. A fever goes through town, which Vanessa treated for a pittance, now suddenly there's a sudden whole new infection starting up? Which she just happens to have the insanely expensive cure for?

"Ah, I have the bottle over here. I think there's still a few drops left..." The woman stood, walking over to the small kitchen space. Alfyn followed, leaving Therion alone with the two kids at the bedside. He felt kind of useless, what else could he do? An idea crossed his mind and he reached out, awkwardly patting little Flynn gently on the back.

Meanwhile Alfyn had popped open the bottle and was sniffing the opening. "This smell, it smells like Gaborra Evergreen. A potent antipyretic, but I feel like there's somethin' else..." he handed back the bottle and dug a well worn book from his satchel. He flipped through the pages, then stopped and pointed at the page. "Here we go, Gaborra Evergreen. A flowering conifer native far to the south- it acts as a potent fever reducer but its use is not recommend as- it causes severe irritation to the throat which results in a cough similar to the whopping cough which plagues the lands from which it hails?!" Ah, so there it was. "That Vanessa woman...she knew exactly what she was doing."

The woman's eyes went wide, "by the flame, that someone would do such a thing- can you still help?"

"I should be able to, but I'm gonna need somethin' first... say, do you happen to know if a certain kind of moss grows around here? Glows a bright blue."

"...moss?" The woman shook her head, "I'm afraid I can't say, but, I don't leave town much-"

Ellen perked up. "Oh! Glowy blue moss? The Azure cave is full of it! It's so pretty!"

Her mother gasped, "Ellen, you shouldn't be going there! That cave is full of monsters!"

"Well, that pretty blue moss is gonna get Flynn all better. And everyone else in town, too." Alfyn packed his book away and started for the door. "We'll be back soon, c'mon Therion!"

 

  
They made but one stop on their way to the cave as Alfyn waved down a guard and explained the situation. If Vanessa was still in town, they were going to have questions for her. The Cave of Azure was only a short walk east of town, if things weren't so urgent they might have had time to admire how streaks of blue moss illuminated the walls and ceiling of the cavern. Not enough within reach that it could be gathered, they would have to venture further in.

There was the sound of metal scraping on stone echoing ahead. Somebody was already in here. Therion lightly nudged Alfyn's shoulder. "Say, what's the plan if we run into Vanessa in here?" The last few encounters, the necromancer, Miguel, Yvon, there was starting to be a pattern here. The other apothecary was immoral, for sure, but with every kill... it weighed on Alfyn.

Alfyn considered, "If she doesn't listen to reason..." why would she? Her little plan had been a roaring success so far. "I've got a little somethin' that might work, keep her knocked out til the guard can bring her in."

Therion raised an eyebrow. What, was he planning on drugging her? "Well, better have whatever you're planning at the ready."

  
Sure enough, in the back of the cavern where the glowing moss grew dense, Vanessa was directing two men- mercenaries from the look of them- as they scraped moss from the walls. As they drew closer they heard her musing aloud to herself, amazement at how valuable the simple moss turned out to be.

"Well, Vanessa, fancy seeing you here..." The scraping stopped and Vanessa turned as Alfyn stepped forward.

"Well, if it isn't the bumbling fool and his friend." Vanessa crossed her arms while her hired help came up behind her, hands on their weapons. "Whatever are you doing in a place like this..."

Alfyn stared her down. "That elixir you handed out for the fever was brewed from Gaborra Evergreen, wasn't it? Oh, it cured the fever, for sure- but the irritation it causes in the throat... No apothecary in good conscience would put their patients through that."

She frowned, "Ah, you aren't as dumb as you look."

"Just give it up now, your racketeering days are over in this town." Therion kept a hand on the hilt of his sword.

"Hm, I suppose they are..." She stepped back, allowing the mercenaries to step up in front of her. "New plan, boys, I'll pay you double to drive these fools off."

The mercenaries made their moves, rushing forward with weapons drawn. Therion and Alfyn both parried the blows with ease. It didn't take long for the mercenaries to start to look worried- compared to the sparring matches with Olberic they were pushovers.

Vanessa clicked her tongue in annoyance. "You just can't make this easy, can you?" There was the sound of glass shattering and Alfyn shouted- Therion glanced over to see he had stumbled back with an arm over his eyes. Face soaked in some sort of concoction, small cuts from broken glass.

With one last fierce blow, Therion's opponent fell to the ground. Bruised and rattled, but not dead. He heard himself snarl as he rushed to Alfyn's side, nearly catching the second mercenary off guard, sending the man stumbling back. He was so focused on the man that he didn't spot the vial hurtled at him until he felt it shatter against his face. He growled, stumbling back, the acrid solution burned at his skin and the cuts left by the broken glass. It seeped into his scarf, and the more he breathed in the fumes the more his lungs began to ache. He had to pull the garment away, coughing as his vision threatened to blur. What had that bitch hit them with?

The mercenary in front of him hesitated, sharing a look with his partner as he tried to get back on his feet. Therion was glaring at them, weapon still ready, teeth bared. (The voice was snarling so loud, he swore he could feel the rumble of a deep growl low in his chest.) Whatever Vanessa was paying them, it apparently wasn't enough to deal with this. They ran for it, leaving nothing standing between Therion and Miss Hysel.

He rushed forward. ( _Nothing to stop them from just ripping her apart_ \- but... Alfyn had wanted to keep her alive, didn't he?) Vanessa pulled out a knife, which Therion easily knocked away with his own before grabbing her wrist and ducking behind her. After a brief struggle he had her arms pinned behind her.

"You mongrel- unhand me!" Vanessa kicked repeatedly and his feet and legs, but he held fast. She glared at Alfyn- who was walking over while digging for something in his satchel. "Just what are you and your little pet planning to do with me?"

"I'm not anyone's fucking **pet**." Therion growled.

"Oh, nothin' much, just a little somethin' to make sure you don't run off until the guard can get here." Alfyn carefully unwrapped cloth from what appeared to be some sort of briar. Vanessa's eyes went wide with recognition. "Heh, I take it you know what this is. Slumberthorn: most powerful sleep inducer in the realm. Just one little prick, and..." Alfyn brought the briar close, lightly poking one of the large thorns into Vanessa's arm.

"Why...you..." Vanessa went slack in Therion's arms, after a moment she began to snore. Damn, that was fast. Tempted as he was to just drop her, Therion lowered her carefully to the ground.

Alfyn wrapped the slumberthorn back up, stashing it back in his bag. "When she next wakes up, it'll be in the gaol. How ya feelin', Therion? Think she hit us with noxroot extract." He motioned him over, pulling out a water skin. "Here, it can leave a nasty rash if we don't wash it off."

 

  
Injuries treated and moss collected, Therion and Alfyn made their way back into town. Therion's scarf was going to need a good wash to get the concoction out- the fact he couldn't wear it without risking getting a horrible rash on his face was annoying. (It would be fine, so long as he didn't smile or talk. Going without it in public made him feel oddly exposed.)

Alfyn directed the guard to the cave, then found himself tackled at the knees.

"Alfyn! You're back- does that mean you got what you need to help Flynn?" Okay, it was criminally cute just how attached this kid was getting to Alfyn.

"We sure did!" Alfyn pulled out a small handful of moss, Ellen let out a soft 'ooh' over the color and shine. "Let's hurry on back- I'll get Flynn's medicine ready in no time!"

Therion wasn't really planning on going with Alfyn this time, but he was carrying some of the moss, and Ellen looked at him so expectantly when they got to her house. (Damn it, he was going soft.)

While Alfyn set to work with his mortar and pestle, Therion found himself getting dragged over to sit with Ellen at Flynn's bedside. Gods, this was a bad idea, one wrong move and he was going to freak these kids out. Their mother would glance back at Alfyn, or at Flynn when she coughed, but mostly she was trying to work on preparing what was most likely to be the girls' dinner.

Ellen wouldn't stop staring at him. "You're really grumpy- is it cuz you lost your pretty scarf? Did Alfyn make you take it off because summer isn't scarf weather? Mama tells us some clothes are only good sometimes- so we can't wear our scarves and mittens when it's warm. But that's okay! Once it gets cold again I bet Mister Alfyn will let you wear your scarf again!"

He heard Alfyn giggle from where he was sitting. Therion brought a hand up to his mouth, like he was thinking, "No, it... got dirty."

Ellen tilted her hand, reached over, and lightly tugged on Therion's wrist. "Why do ya keep covering your mouth?"

 

Alfyn walked over, vial in hand. "Heh, Therion's just a bit shy. Here, Flynn, this should help your throat feel better. It won't taste good, but you need to drink it all down, okay?"

Flynn made a face when she drank the medicine, by the effect was immediate. She was, at last, able to breath easy without trying to hack up a lung. She whispered a tiny "thank you", smiled, and settled back into her pillow.

"There we go." Alfyn stood and walked back over to the table. "I'm gonna need to make more doses for the rest of the folks in town, do you mind if I- not to impose-"

"Oh, go right on ahead. I think Ellen and Flynn both enjoy the company." The girls mother smiled softly back at them both, then turned back to chopping veggies.

There was a rattle of chains, and Therion looked down to see Ellen was lightly tugging on the chain of his bangle. "Say, Mister Theri, why are you wearing this funny bracelet?"

He glanced around, nobody was looking directly at him. "It...doesn't come off. It's kinda a long story, not sure you'd want to hear it."

Ellen looked up at him, eyes wide, and she clamored onto the bed and plopped down. "Flynn and I love stories! Can you tell us? Pleeeease?"

Should he? He had the undivided attention of both children now. "...it's called a Fool's Bangle. It's proof that a thief got caught trying to steal from someone."

"You're a thief, Mister Theri? But you're nice!" Therion noticed the girls' mother glance back at them, but she didn't say anything.

"Yeah, and most thieves aren't. But, I've met some people lately, and they might just convince me to change careers. But I need to finish a little quest first, so I can get this bangle off."

Flynn scooted forward, already invested as well. Her voice was a little rough from all her coughing. "I thought you said it doesn't come off? What's the quest? Who gave you the bracelet?"

"Well..." Should he tell them? He had a feeling they wouldn't leave him alone until he did. "I heard a rumor of a noble house with a great treasure. This treasure was so great, people said it was enough to buy an entire town. No thief could get the treasure though, the noble house had as many guards as an army and the house was full of traps. I got past the guards, avoided the traps, but it turned out the entire story was one big trick. The treasure had already been stolen long ago." The girls gasped. "They wanted to send a thief to steal back their treasure, and they wanted to make sure the thief was a good one." He opened his hand, revealing a seashell in his palm. Ellen gasped and smiled, taking the shell back. "Since they put the fool's bangle on me, they're the only ones with the key to get it off. All I have to do is find their missing treasure."

Ellen's eyes were wide and sparkling. "Wow! Was Mister Alfyn there too? Are you both looking for the treasure?"

"No, we met after that. Alfyn's not the thieving type. Way too clumsy and loud. Lucky for all of us though he's well suited as an apothecary." The girls giggled, and soon Ellen was asking how he did the trick with the seashell. He was pretty sure their mother would not approve if he did.

 

  
When he and Alfyn left, something dawned on Therion- he had been smiling and chatting with the girls and neither of them said anything about his teeth. Maybe he just had them that distracted with the story? Alfyn clapped him on the back, grinning bright.

"Say, thanks for chattin' with Ellen and Flynn while their mother and I were busy. I think they like really like ya."

Therion huffed and moved to grab for his scarf- nope, still gone. "Can't imagine why. I'm gonna go to our room, get my other scarf. Don't stay out too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kid logic: Maybe all thieves have sharp teeth. That's probably a thing.


	22. Chasing Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *excited to get to Whispermill* >:3
> 
> *realizes they have to travel there first* aaaaaaaaaaaaaah

Passing out the much needed medicine to the rest of those suffering in town, thankfully, didn't take too long. Alfyn returned just in time for dinner. As it turned out the others had a busy day as well, the Kindling put briefly on hold because the priest's daughter had been kidnapped. It had been a plot to steal the Sacred Flame- of all things.

Therion eyed the lantern. "What the hell did they want with it, anyway?" From the sound of things, the kidnappers had not been your typical thieves.

Ophilia's gaze trailed to the ground, a morose frown on her face. "I am not sure. They mentioned that someone called 'The Savior' wanted it, then..." She shook her head.

"The men took their own lives with poison before we could gather more information." Primrose placed a comforting hand on Ophilia's shoulder.

Olberic shook his head. "Whoever they are, they strike fear into the hearts of men. We shall have to be on our guard."

"Shucks, I guess... at least little Lysa was okay. That had t' be scary for her." Therion watched as Alfyn not-so-stealthily snuck a chuck of his fish under the table, Linde purred and licked his fingers.

Cyrus nodded and turned his attention to the apothecary. "You must have had a busy day yourself, Alfyn. I heard there was a bit of an epidemic rolling through town- the Gaborran Whopping Cough I believe? I am curious how an illness native so far to the south spread here, perhaps from one of the many tourists drawn to this location this time of year?"

Alfyn frowned, "Yeah, actually, it wasn't the whopping cough at all. It started as a fever, and there was another apothecary in town who handed out an antipyretic brewed from Gaborra Evergreen." Cyrus made an intrigued sound and Alfyn explained further. "Gaborra Evergreen will get rid of a fever real quick, but it irritates the throat somethin' awful. Everyone she gave the medicine to came down with a really bad cough- it looks real similar to the whopping cough."

Therion heard a chuff and looked down to see Linde poking her nose out from under the table, head in his lap. He rolled his eyes and lightly pushed her away. "Bitch was running a racket. Gave out the initial 'cure' for free then was charging a hundred thousand leaves a dose to get rid of the cough."

" **What?!** " Tressa looked absolutely stunned, "That no-good, those poor people! How could anyone get away charging so much for medicine?"

"Well you'll be happy to know she's locked up in the gaol by now. And Alf here fixed everyone else up." Linde was rubbing against his hand now, purring softly.

Alfyn chuckled and his face went red, "I couldn't have done it without your help, Ther. Heh, you guys shoulda seen it. The first family I helped treat had a couple little girls, he helped comfort little Flynn when she had her bad cough. And gosh, he told 'em a story and they absolutely loved it!"

Therion ducked into his scarf. It wasn't like he actually knew what he was doing. Hell, he half expected the mom to chase him out at any moment the entire time he was there.

Ophilia smiled, "That's so sweet! I'm sure the two of you will be wonderful fathers yourselves one day."

Alfyn gave a nervous chuckle, "I-it's a bit soon t' be thinking about havin' kids, Phili!"

No shit. Alfyn was the one that was actually good with kids anyway, Therion was pretty sure he'd screw something up left to his own devices. Besides, he was a thief and a monster. He should be the last thing anyone wanted to leave their kid alone with. Ophilia just kept smiling at them, it made Therion want to join Linde under the table.

Alfyn cleared his throat. "Y'know, things have been so crazy lately- and I mean we are in Goldshore, bet we could all use a day t' just relax before gettin' back on the road."

"Thou art suggesten we taken a vacation of our owne." Under the table Linde made a small mrow of approval.

Tressa considered, "Well, I did have a pretty good sales day today, the market's here are pretty good. An extra day will add to our savings. And we should be able to afford it too."

"Shucks, Tress, it ain't much of a break if you're workin' durin' it!"

"Yeah, but I like trading! Besides, I grew up in Rippletide, remember? The beach isn't really anything too new to me."

Alfyn waved for another mug of mead, "Guess you got a point. Whatever floats your boat, yeah? I know I wanna hit the beach and go for a swim- you still wanna join me tomorrow, Ther?"

He shrugged, "Might as well. Should be fine as long as I don't get more crabs in my hair." He shot Tressa a look, at which point she started giggling.

 

 

Therion had thought his dancer's outfit was revealing, but that was nothing compared to some of the swim wear options he was looking at now. He had seen other tourists walking around in what, honestly, looked like no more than small clothes in bright colors. (Gods people were going to stare, he just knew it.)

He heard Primrose snickering. "Therion, I found a nice purple number over here."

"If it's what I think it is, that thing's not any sort of clothing. It's string." He looked over and, sure enough, Primrose was holding up the sorry excuse for a colorful loincloth. "I'm not wearing that."

She giggled harder and placed it back down. "Oh, I am aware. You are incredibly modest. Just so you know, I don't think anybody would complain if you chose to wear a shirt. Hm, I think I saw some lovely options at another stall..."

"It's less modesty and more... I don't like drawing attention." He lifted up a pair of shorts and frowned, way too big. "And I don't need a new shirt, I already have one."

"Yes. One. That has been torn, stitched, and stained countless times over."

Therion rolled his eyes, she wasn't wrong but clothing could get expensive. And stealing it was a gamble if he wanted something that would actually fit his smaller, lanky frame. "Why don't you go help Ophilia, I think she froze up over there." He motioned to where the cleric was standing, holding up a rather revealing red number.

"Very well, but this isn't over." Primrose strolled away to join Ophilia and Therion went back to perusing his options.

 

 

Therion and Alfyn at last made their way down to one of Goldshore's smaller, less crowded beaches. Alfyn had managed to find some swim shorts in his favorite green. Therion kept catching himself staring at his bare chest and back. He still carried his satchel with him, slung over his shoulder. Therion had his own pair of shorts, purple, slightly too big, as well as a shirt that Primrose had surprised him with on the way back to the inn. He wasn't sure how he felt about the floral pattern, but the material was comfortable enough.

He caught movement out the corner of his eye and smirked under his scarf. He pretended not to notice as Ellen and Flynn snuck up behind them.

The girls were thrilled to see that Alfyn was still here, and before long they both found themselves roped into their games. Therion tried to hang back at first, but the three of them proved insistent.

The moment was short lived, a voice called from the town above. "Excuse me, sir?" Therion looked over to see a man in intricate clerical robes leaning over the stone wall. He nudged Alfyn, who had been helping the girls build a sandcastle.

Flynn looked up as well. "Hey, that's the bishop!"

When Alfyn looked up the man continued, "Sir- are you the apothecary who was passing out cures yesterday? Please, I require your assistance."

Alfyn waved, "Be right over!" He turned back to the girls, "Sorry Flynn, Ellen, looks like somebody needs my help. You girls take care now, you hear?"

"Ah, Alfyn wait!" Ellen opened up her little bag and pulled out a handful of seashells, holding them out to the apothecary. "These are for you! Since you're so poor. And for helping us!"

"We got some for you too, Mister Theri!" Therion found Flynn shoving shells into his hands. "So you don't have t' keep stealing!"

"Wow, thank you, girls! These should keep us fed a long time, right Therion?" Alfyn, smiling bright, bumped him with his shoulder.

Therion nodded, "They sure will."

There was the sound of sniffling, and Therion looked back over to see Alfyn was starting to cry. Ellen tsked, "Alfyn's crying! Adults aren't supposed to cry."

Alfyn wiped his face with his free hand, "heh, even adults need a good cry every now and again. We better go see what the trouble is, you girls stay healthy."

Therion heard Ellen sniffling as well as the girls shouted their good-byes. They made it up the stairs where the bishop was waiting anxiously.

"So, what seems to be the problem, ah, Father...?" Alfyn awkwardly held out a hand.

"Donovan. If you could follow me-" Donovan began walking with urgency, motioning for them to follow. "It's the sister on the quest for The Kindling. She was found passed out at the inn, we think she drank wine laced with...something."

"Ophilia-" Shit, why was she left alone? She should have been with somebody after what happened yesterday, knowing somebody was trying to steal her lantern.

Donovan glanced back at Therion, surprised. "You know her then?"

"We were travelin' with her- we better hurry. Dependin' on what she got drugged with, and how strong the wine was, she could be in real trouble." Alfyn's pace had picked up as well.

Therion considered, "I'm going to round everyone up. See you again soon, Medicine Man."

 

 

Everyone had gathered together in the room Bishop Donovan had been given for Ophilia to rest in. Linde had curled up on the foot of her bed while everyone else stood around. Silent. Worried. Apparently Ophilia's sister had arrived in town looking for her with grave news from home. The two had left to talk privately. Now her sister was gone, the lantern was gone, and they were all waiting for Ophilia to wake up again.

An unsettling feeling had settled in Therion's gut. He had an inkling as to what happened, but they couldn't know for sure until they asked Ophilia. (Betrayal, from the person she was closest to. Trusted the most.)

Ophilia made a soft sound, stirring and slowly sitting up. Alfyn spoke softly to her, passing her a glass of water. She took a careful sip and looked around the room. After a moment she looked on the verge of tears, Alfyn placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, we're here for you. If ya don't wanna talk now that's fine, but, do ya know what happened?"

Ophilia nodded and took another sip of water. "Lianna, she told me...our father. His illness claimed him. He's gone." She took in a shuddering breath, "She, she took the flame. She said The Savior could bring father back." There is was. Therion's suspicions proved true. "What, what if that horrible man hurts her? Father is gone, if I were to lose Lianna too..."

She, still cared? Why? Her own sister had just stabbed her in the back.

Primrose approached, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She held out her arms and Ophilia quickly accepted the hug. "We will find her. That is a promise."

Ophilia took in a couple deep breaths, steadying herself. "He, the man, whoever this Savior is, he came in before I blacked out. He said, something about Whispermill?"

Bishop Donovan frowned in concern, "Whispermill... it's a town up north, in the flatlands. It has fallen on hard times, most recently a plague claimed most of the population. Word has it that the people there have ceased following the flame. That they now follow the preachings of someone called The Savior."

Great. A cult. Was that better, or worse than dealing with necromancers? "We better get ready to go then. Don't suppose we could get a boat or something to cut travel time?" Therion aimed his question towards Tressa and Cyrus.

"There are boats that travel between here and Rippletide. Been on them before, if we can catch one today we should get there by morning. I'll see if I can haggle down the price, since it's an emergency and all." Tressa stood, hefting her pack behind her. "I'll see what I can do."

 

 

Tressa was able to find a ship willing to have them on board, run by a frequent visitor to Rippletide who Tressa recognized. Therion quickly realized that he did not like being on the ship. It wasn't quite motion sickness, he didn't feel queasy, but the constant shift and sway of the ship made him feel unsteady on his feet. Something in his mind shouted that the ground would fall away, that he would fall. It wasn't as bad if he laid down, so he spent the majority of the trip curled up in his bedroll.

Alfyn joined him below deck, plate of food in hand. "Hey, brought you somethin', if ya feel up to eating." He plopped down into his own bedroll, placed right up next to Therion's.

Therion sat up, taking the plate. "Remind me to never become a pirate." Alfyn chuckled and Therion chewed on a chunk of bread. "...I don't understand, how all of you do it."

"What do ya mean?"

"How... after Miguel, Lucia, hell Ophilia's own sister screwed her over but she's still worried about her. How can any of you still trust people?" They were all horrible reminders of what the world was really like. That the moment you trust someone, you've lost. (But. Would any of them turn on him? Cyrus, Alfyn, Prim- it was hard to imagine. Then again, he was blindsided the first time too...)

Alfyn frowned and leaned back on his hands. "We have met some pretty nasty folks, haven't we?" Nasty was an understatement. Therion should have been dead at least three times over. "But, I mean, not everyone is like that. Most folks are good people, if ya take th' time t' know 'em. I think... I think Ophilia is worried because right now, her and her sister are hurtin'. It's a pretty rough spot t' be, right after ya loose a loved one..."

"And this 'Savior' roped her in with the promise of bringing said loved one back..." What would he have done, all those years ago, if someone had told him they could bring his parents back? Before he knew better. Before... Therion sighed. "The Bishop said that a bad plague went through the town we're heading for, right? Sounds like this 'Savior' likes to strike when people are down."

"...it's a pretty rotten thing. Dead is dead, there... there isn't any comin' back from it. Ah- present company excluded I guess?"

Therion snorted. "I wouldn't wish my condition on anyone." There were many times where he wondered if it would have been better if he had died that day. Back when his only real focus was on keeping himself alive day in and day out. "And I don't think I'd be even slightly human, if I had actually died."

 

 

It was going to take a good five days to get to Whispermill by foot. There were coaches available that stopped in Noblecourt, but Therion was pretty sure that after the stunt he pulled off with Alfyn, Cyrus, and Tressa that their reputation there had likely suffered. It would be many days on the road without restocking- lucky for them that they were in Tressa's hometown. She knew just who to approach, favors to call in, to get them what they would need without completely diminishing their savings.

They had one more day of travel left. The sun was starting to prickle more and more at Therion's skin. (It was more tolerable, not traveling with that blasted lantern.) There was a sense of unease as they got closer to Whispermill, not as much chatter among the group. Alfyn, bless him, was trying to lighten the mood with some stories he had been told as a child. Riverland folk stories, lighthearted fairy tales. It encouraged Tressa to share some stories of her own- though some of hers were less uplifting and more. Scary.

"Therion, I have something I've been meaning to ask you." He looked over, sure enough Cyrus had that notebook out again.

"Well, it can't be worse than what you asked last time." Last time, Cyrus had asked him about his latrine habits- for science or no Therion didn't want to talk about how often he had to take a leak.

"I was wondering, how often do you require blood meals? It is apparent that other variables factor in, such as injuries sustained. From what I have gathered, the span between your feeding in Quarrycrest, and the day we arrived in Saintsbridge, would have been five days. Though, you were recovering from a rather serious injury at that point..."

Therion shrugged. "Never really kept track." He mostly always went by how tolerable The Craving and the pain of the sunlight were. Without any serious injury or that pain of Ophilia's lantern, Therion felt like he might be able to push his next feeding a bit longer.

Cyrus hummed, "When was the last time you took a blood meal? I know you took one from myself in Saintsbridge," yeah, Therion didn't want to repeat that experience, "you suffered quite the injury in Stonegard- would I be right to assume you fed then as well?"

He tugged up on his scarf. "Stonegard was the last time, yeah."

"There was a point that I had to wonder, if your bite had aphrodisiac properties. I did not experience such a result myself- something about the bite, perhaps your saliva, acts as an anticoagulant and prevents swelling. Alfyn told me the bites heal relatively quickly, perhaps some sort of agent that prevents infection and fosters healing? I have another hypothesis, based on Alfyn and I's reactions and the knowledge that most of your previous meals were taken from sleeping individuals who, you report, would not awaken when bitten...ah but I am getting off track. It has been a little over a week since Stonegard. That is a longer gap than your previous feedings..."

Therion stared blankly at the professor, then slowly settled his face into his hands. "It can wait." (The craving whined, it didn't want to. The string of more regular feedings had the damn thing spoiled.)

 

  
The monsters had gotten more aggressive as they made their way further north, as a result it was agreed to take watches in pairs. More sets of eyes and backup in case something attacked in the night. Cyrus and Olberic were out for the first watch, leaving Therion and Alfyn curled up alone in the men's tent.

Therion was about ready to will himself to sleep, curled up against Alfyn's chest and wrapped in his arms. Alfyn ducked down, whispering in his ear. "...heard ya talkin' to Cyrus earlier. Ya know, if you ever need to... I don't mind. Just say the word."

Therion pressed his face harder into Alfyn's chest. "We'd wake everyone up, you know."

He felt Alfyn chuckle against him. "I'll try and keep it down. I want ya to be comfortable- and who knows what we're gonna find in town tomorrow."

"Hmm." Therion tilted his head up, pressing a kiss under Alfyn's scruffy chin. He made a pretty convincing argument. "Try not to get us caught, medicine man." Alfyn laughed again as he moved down, kissing at his neck. He tugged down the collar of Alfyn's shirt and sank his teeth into the spot where his neck and shoulder met.

Alfyn clung tighter as Therion fed, the hitched breaths and soft groans brought Therion back to the first time they did this. Alfyn trying desperately to hide his arousal from the professor while Therion licked at his neck, melted against him. Therion allowed his hands to wander, sneaking up under Alfyn's shirt to pinch at his belly, trail over the expanse of his chest. He hummed softly, pressing his body further into Alfyn's warmth, his pulse while their hands began to move lower.

 

  
Cyrus looked up from the camp fire. "...Olberic, do you hear that?" The warrior looked over at him and Cyrus held up a finger, listening more carefully. There was the soft crackle of the campfire, in the distance two owls called back and forth. Ever so faintly, from the direction of the tents, Cyrus picked up on a new sound. A growl? No, it sounded more like a purr- but far louder than he had ever heard from Linde. Had some sort of beast snuck into their camp?

"You think there is trouble?" Olberic didn't hear anything of note himself. Even so, he reached for his sword.

"I am unsure, it's coming from..." Cyrus stood and crept slowly towards the tents. Olberic watched as he poked his head into their tent, then quickly retreated muttering a quick apology. Eyes wide, face red, he returned to his spot by the fire. "It would seem that...Therion purrs when, ah..."

Olberic sighed and set his sword down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *pats Cyrus*


	23. Silent Windmills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slams chapter down and passes out*

It was overcast, an occasional strong wind making the tall grasses sway. It felt like a storm was rolling in. The windmills, once distant, loomed tall and creaked as they turned. When the group made it to Whispermill there was no bustle, no greetings, the town was eerily silent. What people there were lurked back, Therion felt their eyes on them. They would hurry away quickly when the more social members of their party tried to approach.

"Wow, what a _warm_ welcome." Therion eyed the people they passed, watched them whisper to each other when they thought none of them were looking.

"Shucks, they remind me of how you looked at folks when we first met, Ther." Alfyn clung tight to his satchel. He wasn't wrong, and the worse of the icy glares were directed at Alfyn and Ophilia in particular. It seemed they weren't to fond of apothecaries, or people from the church.

Well, if a plague ravaged the town... of course they would blame those who failed to help them.

Ophilia fell in close to him and hushed her voice. "...Therion, I don't suppose you might be able to sense where the flame is?"

The thief shook his head. "Sorry, nothing so far... I'll let you know if that changes."

They made their way further into town when a distraught woman ran from her home, flagging their group down. "Oh thank the flame, excuse me! Sister, please, can you help me?"

Ophilia, concerned, approached the woman. (Therion didn't like this. Nothing about this town felt right.) "I shall do my best, what seems to be the problem?"

"My child, he's fallen horribly ill. Please, if you might have a look at him..."

That got Alfyn's attention, and he stepped forward as well. Therion followed behind, hand on his dagger. "Pardon, but, I might be able to help too- I'm an apothecary..."

"He is a good friend of mine, your child will be in good hands with him. We shall both do our best."

The woman nodded, "Yes, yes if you two could just follow me- just the two of you, he gets nervous with too many people around."

The woman's heart was racing, she looked scared. Anxious. But then, that would be fitting if what she said was true, wouldn't it? He watched the woman usher Alfyn and Ophelia into the house and was about to creep closer to listen through the door when he heard Tressa gasp behind him.

Therion spun around, the other townspeople had their group surrounded. Farm tools, pitchforks and sickles, in hand. They were no trained fighters, they could fight them easy. Linde was growling, back arched.

One of the townspeople, a young man, stepped forward. "Savior warned us th' witch had a following of warriors under her command. You, if you wanna see her again you all best come quiet." He was shaking, how could he not be? The man had likely never been in a fight in his life, and here he was staring down Olberic while a snow leopard snarled at him.

Olberic sighed and raised his hands in the air, a surrender? The warrior noticed his confusion out the corner of his eye. "They are no warriors, there is no honor to be had in striking down citizens."

"Like hell I'm going to stand by when-" Therion moved to draw his knife when a bludgeon collided with the back of his head. (How the fuck did somebody sneak up on him?!)

 

Therion groaned, he was getting really sick of being knocked out. As well as waking up to find himself tied up- his arms were bound tight to his side with tight ropes. He had been sat with his back leaning against a stony wall. Growling, he forced his eyes open, taking in his surroundings. Metal bars, stone wall and floor, the smell of musty straw- this was the gaol. His other companions laid slumped in the cell (hearts beating, still alive).

"Ah, I figured you would be the first awake." Therion's attention was immediately drawn to a man standing outside the cell. There was an odd feel about the man. Inhuman, but familiar, it made Therion's hairs stand on end. He looked young at first glance, but when Therion locked on to his eyes there was a sense of age. Of years gone by no human should be able to fathom.

He found himself unconsciously shrinking back. The man chuckled and approached him. "Ah, you can feel it- yes? You are in the presence of The Savior, of one of Galdera's chosen. To think that the carrier of the flame was traveling with one of Galdera's faithful little warriors..." He reached out, ruffling Therion's hair.

"What- what the fuck are you talking about?! _Don't touch me._ " He forced himself to shove away from the touch. (The voice, silent up until now, hit him with a surge of fear. _He shouldn't do that_.)

The Savior smiled softly, "Ah, a shame. Shackled down by scraps of humanity. It must be so frustrating. Don't worry, I can help you with that."

He heard Ophilia stir in the cell and The Savior turned, walking away. What the hell? Whatever this lunatic was planning, Therion was sure he wanted no part in it. He squirmed, if he still had his dagger then all he needed to do was get a grip on it.

Ophilia pushed herself off the ground, recognition and confusion on her face as she stared up at The Savior. "...Master Mattias? What are you...?"

Mattias smiled and reintroduced himself as The Savior. "You upset my plans quite a bit when you took the flame in Lianna's stead. But no matter, with the flame in our possession we can at last get on with the right."

Ophilia pulled herself to her feet, "Right? What are you planning to do, and where is Lianna?"

"As a cleric of the church, I am sure you are familiar with the stories of the thirteenth god. Imprisoned by Aelfric's flame. I have been granted a portion of Galdera's power, power which shall grow once Galdera's shackles are loosend." Ophilia gasped and Therion paused in his squirming as Mattias walked back towards him. "Your little friend here will benefit as well. As for your dear sister, she has agreed to act as my vestal." He grabbed hold of the ropes binding Therion, dragging him with ease. "You and the rest of your friends just sit tight, we'll come by to let you out when we're done."

The townspeople followed behind as Mattias dragged him to the east side of town, then further, ducking into a dark cavern. He began talking to Therion again along the way. "I had the pleasure of reading through that scholar's little book while you were out. That human soul in there has been shielding you from the sun so far, but once the right is over you won't need it anymore. It shall be the dawn of a new age."

"You- you're a fucking psycho!" Therion didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. He could tell the craving didn't want to fight this, wanted him to just go along with it. It fought against him when he tried to shout, to squirm, and that was worse- that something in his own head was against him.

Hidden far in the back of the cave sat an alter. His skin crawled, the stolen flame sat atop the stone. The area looked to be a sort of ancient shrine, once upon a time. The townspeople gathered in the area that looked meant to house pews while Mattias dragged Therion up the small set of stairs to stand by the altar. He let go of the bindings and pat him lightly on the head. "You'll be free soon, young one."

Lianna rushed in from where she had been trailing behind the rest of the group. Mattias turned her smile to her. "Ah, good, are you ready to call your father home?" Therion watched, stunned, as he walked Lianna through the right- instructing her to focus on her hearts deepest desire (to bring back her deceased father) and to reach out, putting her hand inside the flame.

The flame wavered and, while it still burned strong, the color it gave off darkened. Therion felt a pulse of power, a shift, as the flame changed. The townspeople began to drop, and Therion had a pretty good idea as to why- he could feel it. Something grabbing hold of that very sense of his being and pulling it away, towards the flame, the pull getting stronger as the fire turned black.

 

Ophilia lead the way as the group rushed into the cavern. Alfyn's knuckles had gone white from how tightly he clung to his satchel. The Savior had taken Therion with him too, gods what was he planning on doing to him? To Lianna, the townspeople? (The town had been deserted when they left the gaol, after Lianna let them out. Instructions to leave before something awful happened to them.)

As they came upon the scene they saw as the last of the townspeople dropped to the floor. Lianna was watching with fear, her hand at the heart of a roaring dark flame. Therion was no longer tied up, but something was wrong. He didn't carry himself as he usually did, when he turned to look as they entered the look in his eyes... if he had to compare it to anything, it would be the way Linde looked when one of them entered a room. The blank expression of an animal. Mattias placed a hand on his head, and he didn't even flinch.

Lianna stuttered, "The, the townspeople, what's happening to them?"

"You mean the sacrifices? This power comes at a cost..." Mattias turned to look as the group, lead by Ophilia, marched in on their ritual. "Oh? How did you all get out? Lianna..." He shook his head. "No matter, we're all but done with the right. Go on, little warrior, now's your chance to feast to your heart's content!"

Feast? Therion ( _no, not Therion. That was what Sneaky man was called._ ) looked out at the targets the General was pointing him towards. The General said he was free. Free to hunt, to do what he wanted. His ears latched on to a familiar heartbeat ( _fast, too fast. Scared? Been running_.), eyes locked on to that familiar figure in green. Grass man! The other people, that's right, Grass man and Sneaky man's... the word, friends? Family. Clan-mates. He blinked and shook his head. "...no."

Mattias frowned, "What do you mean, _'no'_? You are free from the humanity that held you back! This is your chance to relish in your lust for human blood!"

Not-Therion hopped over the steps, Grass man looked a bit confused as he ran over, and flinched when he gripped him in a tight hug. He turned around, standing between The General and Grass man. "Don't gotta. Grass man feeds me. Plays with me. Give pets and cuddles. Love Grass man, wanna keep Grass man happy."

"I do not believe this, one of Galdera's warriors turned into a _**spoiled pet?!**_ " While Mattias was distracted, Ophilia had run up and was trying to talk to Lianna. "You fool, humans are temporary! The die so easily, wither away in no time at all. You will outlive them, it is a part of Galdera's gift! Consider this a life lesson." Mattias held aloft his staff, topped with candles burning with black flames.

A surge of magic, of black flames, sprouted up from the ground. It engulfed his friends, and though the fire lapped harmlessly at not-Therion's skin he heard those around him screaming in pain. Smelled their blood. No, no no no. He looked back at Grass man, doubled over in pain, then at The General.

The General was strong. Outranked him under Galdera. But... he hurt Grass man. The time spent with Grass man, it was the best thing he'd ever known. No, Grass man was his! His Grass man- nobody, not even one of Galdera's generals, was going to take Grass man away! Not-Therion snarled and bolted forward, his decision made.

Mattias was furious. "You _traitor_! You dare bare your fangs against me?" He tried to hold him back with his staff, striking with a swift kick to the gut.

Not-Therion hissed, dodging back before leaping back in again. He managed to bite onto one of The General's wrists, twisting and tearing before letting go and spitting out the foul blood that flooded his mouth. Tasted bad, rotten, he shouldn't be biting this man. But, he had to protect Grass man, Grass man's friends. The General had strong magic, but not-Therion was fast. Sneaky man was quick-footed, agile, and he knew how to spot holes in an enemy's defenses. Sneaky man...had taught him a lot.

With a gargled scream the group watched on in horror as Therion, acting more beast than man, latched on to Mattias by the throat. The self proclaimed Savior fell to the ground, throat torn to shreds, Therion breathing heavily over the body. Blood covered his hands and face.

A pulse of energy as the flame shifted again, whatever Ophilia had been saying to Lianna seemed to be working. The flame was starting to regain its lost light.

Not-Therion looked around the room, the others...they looked scared? He locked eyes with Grass man again, he watched Grass man take a step back. He was frowning. Did...did he do something wrong? He flinched himself as the flame sent out another pulse, a couple of the townspeople- the sacrifices- began to stir. No, no the flame hurt. He needed to leave. He rushed out, past Spicy man and Loud girl. Into the dark of the cave.

What did he do wrong? Why did they all look so scared? He curled up at a dead end, next to a pool of water. The General had hurt them, he was going to send them to Galdera and he never would have seen them again. Galdera...Galdera was angry. But Galdera couldn't do anything, not with the bindings. That... oh, that The General was taking away. Oh- whenever he returned to hell Galdera was going to be very, very angry.

A familiar heartbeat, echoing footsteps. "Therion? Hey, I've been lookin' for ya..."

Grass man crouched next to him, not-Therion shook his head. "No. Sneaky man, not here."

"O-oh, I, I see..." Grass man sounded sad, he didn't like it. Making Grass man sad. "So, who am I talkin' to then?"

Who? "...don't know. Sneaky man... call me cray-ving."

"Heh, kinda a weird one. You want me to call you that? Craving?" Grass man reached into his bag, pulling out a cloth. "Here, you're kinda a mess."

He let Grass man wipe off his face without resistance. "Can. Yes."

"So, Craving, do ya know...what happened to Therion? Could ya tell me?" Grass man dipped the cloth in the water, then moved to wipe off the blood from his hands.

"Dark flame. Try to take him. Take to Galdera." Grass man paused, he was shaking now. Grass man...he really liked ( _no, loved_ ) Sneaky man. The bond between him and Sneaky man, it was still there. Sneaky man wasn't gone completely. Not yet. "Not here, not gone. Can. Can come back."

"...the other folks, the people Mattias tried t' sacrifice, they came back around when the flame changed back. Is that what we need to do, to bring Therion back? Take you back there?"

He pouted and curled in on himself, nodding. That, was probably it. But he really didn't want to be near the flame. And, he didn't really want Sneaky man to come back either. He liked being in charge for a change. To do what he wanted.

"It, kinda looks like you don't want t' go back there." A shake of the head, Grass man sighed. "I don't suppose there's anything I could do to convince ya?"

He thought about that, then turned to lock eyes with Grass man. "Carry me."

Grass man's eyes widened, then he cracked a smile and let out a small laugh. "Heh, sure thing, buddy. You sure that's all ya want?"

He nodded and held out his arms. He liked being held by Grass man, how Grass man could completely surround him in his arms. Grass man stood and carefully gathered him up, letting him loop his arms around his neck and tuck snugly against his chest. Feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breaths, the beat of his heart. A soft purr echoed through the cavern as he relaxed. Enjoying the moment for however long it would last.

 

Therion found himself pulled someplace horrible. Moans and screams of pain echoed in the expanse around him, what walls and structures he saw... they look composed of twisted, gnarled flesh. Pulsing, twitching, writhing. Familiar blood red runes- much like those he had seen on the batlike beast that was The Craving, wound like chains around him. They weighed him down, try as he might he could not push himself off his hands and knees. He caught sight of something moving before him, twisting, screaming human forms- a terrible amalgamation of flesh and sinew and bone. A single large, red eye opened. Staring him down, he could feel waves of anger radiating from the creature. No, not creature, a name drifted through his mind. He knew what this thing was.

Galdera.

The runes binding him jerked back, he tried to take in a breath but to do so made it feel like he was suffocating. The air too heavy, dense, like he was breathing in water. But there was something else, another jerk of the chains, he pulled his eyes away from the dark god to look behind him. There was light, it felt warm. Welcoming. He could feel it calling him back.

The light engulfed him, it was blinding. Sounds, shapes, and sensations slowly came back to him. The light became uncomfortable again. He groaned, burrowing into the warmth he was surrounded with. As he became more aware of his surroundings, he realized Alfyn was looking down at him. Worried, tears in his eyes, but wearing a hopeful smile.

"Therion? Is that you? How are you feeling?"

Therion searched Alfyn's face, his mind struggling to catch up with what was going on. What had happened? (The question brought flashes of memories into his mind. His friends getting hurt, attacking The Savior, running away. A deal made, to bring him back before he was lost.)

Great. He saw hell, and now the banished thirteenth god had a nice grudge against him.

"I need a drink, please tell me this town has a tavern."


	24. Unwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...smut warning. *sets chapter down, walks away to think about life choices*

People were staring.

The townspeople had already come to, and the room was full of chatter as everyone was sorting out what, exactly, had just happened. As Therion returned more to his senses he picked out more of what they were saying.

"...the one who killed The Savior- the sister said he..." "...is it a monster? Why did they bring it back?" "...heard the sister say...ties to the dark god..."

Monster. Demon. Dangerous.

Therion grabbed for his scarf and paused, it was wet. Tacky. ( _Smelled of bad blood. Don't want near mouth._ ) No way to hide. He felt Alfyn's arms, still cradling him, squeeze a little tighter in a reassuring hug.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Alfyn spoke up over the murmuring. "He ain't dangerous- hell, he helped save us." It had been pretty gruesome to witness, Alfyn had to admit. At the same time... that magic he and the others got hit with. It brought Alfyn back to the time he had been so sick, it felt like dying. What had taken control of Therion, Craving, his heart was in the right place.

There were more murmurs among the crowd, but Therion had stopped listening. It was one of his worst fears realized, he lost control- and people saw. That he had been sent to hell in the meantime, instead of just blacking out, just made it worse than he could have imagined. (He could hear the others talking too, Cyrus, Ophilia, Prim- everyone doing their part to comfort the townspeople and sort out the situation.)

A sharp whistle pierced the air and the chatter stopped, all eyes on H'aanit. "A storm approachens. Besten we leaven lest thine cavern floods."

 

An ominous wind blew as they emerged from the cavern, the dark sky flashed with lightning and a deep rumble of thunder shook the earth. They rushed to the tavern, seeking shelter as fat drops of rain began to fall. It was crowded, but their group and the town's meager population all fit inside. Therion sat himself at a table in a far corner, away from all the bustle. Now that the danger had passed the townsfolk were thankful- especially towards Ophilia. (And really, she deserved the praise. Therion supposed he needed to thank her too.) For those of the town, it was now a matter of figuring out how to pick up the scattered pieces of their lives. Many of the travelers had their hands full as they were asked for some sort of guidance.

The smell of cooking food wafted from the kitchen and Therion found a mug set in front of him. He looked up to see Alfyn wearing his usual, cheery smile. "Hey- said you needed a drink, right? Lucky us, th' barkeep gave a round on th' house!" He settled into a chair at his side, his own mug in hand. "Apparently they've got some of their signature shepherd's pies in th' oven too- smells good, hu?"

"...it does." Therion lifted his mug and took a long, thankful drink. "So. I'm guessing you have some questions. About earlier."

"I do, but, mostly I just wanna make sure you're doin' alright. Craving said that, ya got sent to..." He trailed off, not wanting to say the name aloud. "When I heard that I was really afraid we wouldn't get ya back."

Therion snorted. "Well, I guess not many people can say they know what hell and the thirteenth god look like. _Lucky_ me." He took another draw from his mug. Well, the mead here was good, the town had one thing going for it.

Alfyn let out a small, forced laugh. "Don't let Cyrus hear ya say that, he'd never leave ya alone then."

"Like he doesn't bug me constantly anyway." Well, speak of the devil, Therion looked over to see the scholar was making his way over to their table as well. Plates of food in hand.

"Gentlemen, I was asked to make a delivery." Cyrus slid slices of meat pie towards the two of them and took a seat across the table. "Seems the townspeople are still a bit wary of Therion, but, I feel they may be starting to come around."

Alfyn thanked Cyrus and dug in immediately, tears came to his eyes and he whined while breathing out through his mouth. Too hot. Therion shook his head. "Of course they're scared of me, most people would be." Especially after what The Craving did while he was stuck in hell.

"If I may, there are some things I wanted to talk with you about." Cyrus pulled out his notebook again. The thing was bloodstained now- Mattias had been holding on to it. "Worth noting that your vampiric condition seems to tie you to the thirteenth god. Though, it would make sense for Galdera to be the patron for necromancy, as life and death are his domain. I cannot help but wonder what Mattias meant when he called you one of 'Galdera's Warriors'..."

Therion sighed and slumped in his chair. "...remember back in Stonegard? What the blood crystal did to your boss?" Cyrus nodded, he continued. "Think you were right about him turning into a demon. Or at least, think the blood magic dragged one into him."

Cyrus' eyes went wide, "if that is the case, then, are you saying that you may have a demon bound to your body as well?"

"Didn't think it was anything but an annoying voice at first. Something that would bug me when I needed blood. But..." Therion stared down into his mug, turning it in his hands. Damn, he wasn't sure he could admit it out loud. How it had begun wanting other things lately, ever since he started getting closer to Alfyn. "It started wanting. Other things."

Alfyn hummed next to him, "I take it Craving is the demon, then? Heh, it's kinda funny, he didn't wanna be in th' same room as the sacred flame but he agreed t' go if I carried him. Snuggled right up t' me and started purrin'."

Therion slid down, starting to duck under the table. "Yeah. Stuff like that."

"Fascinating, I wonder if your presence has influenced a change in behavior- it appeared your demon, ah, Craving was it? It would appear Craving was not nearly as aggressive as Mattias was expecting."

"The thing tried to send me to hell." He pulled himself back up to start poking at his pie. "If anyone tamed it, Alfyn did."

The scribbling of Cyrus' quill paused, "ah, yes, he did seem rather fond of Alfyn... perhaps a bit possessive too. I wonder if perhaps he sees Alfyn as a mate, considering the relationship the two of you share."

Alfyn's eyes went wide, "wait-" he swallowed his bite of food. "Wait, Therion- is that why you said ' _we love you_ ' the other day-"

Therion dropped his face to the table. "...fuck. Yeah it. It's along for the ride for whatever I do."

Alfyn's voice dropped to a whisper, "You've still been you though, right? Gods, you haven't been forced t'-"

"Alfyn." Therion turned his head slightly to look at the apothecary from his spot on the table. "I've wanted everything we've done together- don't. Don't worry about that." If anything he should be the one apologizing. "I'm the one in control. It only fights me when it needs blood badly." Well, mostly. Sometimes the line seemed to blur and it was hard to tell just where he ended and The Craving began.

"This is quite the discovery-" Cyrus began writing furiously again, "why, this would mean that the drive to seek out blood meals isn't the typical programming of a construct, but the drive of a new resident bound to a human vessel. Perhaps it is another reason vampires were not as common as other kinds of constructs? I shall have to see what information I can find on the subject. I wonder if it would be possible for you to convey some questions to Craving? I am curious as to what sort of life it lived before being bound to you."

Therion rolled his eyes, "You can try, but I think the thing is about as smart as Linde." The snow leopard in question had been chasing after her own tail, and was now sitting with it in her mouth.

"Yeah, and you were purring like Linde does too!" Tressa leaned against the back of one of the chairs. "I talked to the lady who owns the inn, she's willing to give us a good discount. What are you guys talkin' about over here anyway?"

"Cyrus has that notebook out again, take a guess." Therion sat back up to take another drink. "And I wasn't purring, you must have misheard."

"No, you were most certainly purring. Much as you were last night-" Therion leveled a tired glare at Cyrus.

Tressa laughed, "All you need are some pointy ears and we could just pass you off as a cat! Anyway- Ophilia and her sister need to get back to Flamesgrace. I know Prim and H'aanit were planning on going with, to make sure they get there safe. I just need to see if you guys and mister Olberic were gonna come too."

Therion couldn't say he wanted to go back to the Frostlands. Actually, come to think of it, how long had it been since he dropped off the last stone? "Shit, I think I need to make a run for the desert. That black market is going to be starting up soon."

"I'll go tell Olberic, you have to go to Wellspring, right? He needed to go there too. Don't go anywhere, we're gonna have to figure out where we're gonna meet back up." Tressa started to leave.

"Oh, maybe Boulderfall? Ain't too far from Flamesgrace, and we know Therion's gonna have t' make a stop there. Right?" Well, Alfyn was right about it being a convenient place to meet up.

Therion nodded, "If we're going to meet up there, make sure everyone knows to stay in the upper half of the city, and to keep an eye on their valuables. Place is crawling with thieves who still think the Ravus treasure is up for grabs."

 

The group was milling about in the inn common room. Rain was still coming down hard, leaving them stuck passing what time was left of the day indoors. Therion had just come down from his and Alfyn's room, wearing his new purple floral print shirt and shorts. It was going to be a pain trying to get the bloodstains out of the rest of his clothing. What a mess.

Tressa looked up from her ledger, probably figuring out how to split the group's funds so that everyone would be set on their travels. She giggled, "Hey, looking good, Therion!"

He flipped her off and kept walking as Tressa laughed louder. He scanned the room, looking at what everyone else was doing. Cyrus was reading, no surprise there. Ophilia was sitting with Lianna, who had been very quiet ever since the group left the cave. Linde was curled up with them, chuffing and rubbing against Lianna's legs. H'aanit stood by watching the exchange, possibly taking part in what conversation was happening between them. Alfyn was working on preparing and sorting herbs he had found on the road, really that satchel of his was a disorganized mess. It would take more than a lazy afternoon to get it properly sorted. Olberic was busy maintaining his sword and spear. Finally, on the far side of the room in a space cleared for the task, Primrose was practicing her steps.

Therion walked over and leaned on the wall, watching her footwork. "...so, don't have anything else to do, thought I'd take you up on your previous offer."

Primrose smiled, "I knew you would come around. Here, we'll start you with the Lion dance." She motioned for him to join her in the open space. "It's a slower dance, the moves deliberate and powerful. Done right and it can inspire strength in those around you. Follow my lead."

Therion took careful note of the movement of Primrose's feet, hips, arms, and matched the movements as well as he could from stance to stance. He felt a little silly- but, there wasn't anyone here but his travel companions. And they were all absorbed in their own activities.

"Try not to rush the steps, calm yourself and allow your motions to flow to the beat of your pulse. You're doing very well- now get ready. It ends with a twirl." Primrose spun gracefully around once, stopping with a stomp to the ground in a fierce pose.

Seemed easy enough, Therion whipped his body around in a spin- but there was too much momentum. He went to stop and his body kept moving, he swore as he stumbled and caught himself before he could fall flat on his ass.

Primrose placed a hand on his shoulder, "That was a good first attempt. I'll keep walking you through the steps until you're able to practice them on your own. Are you ready to try again?"

Therion steadied his footing, "pretty sure I'm just making a fool of myself here."

"Practice, Therion. Nobody starts as a master of their craft." She moved back into the starting position and waited for him to follow her lead. "Keep going, and you will not look a fool for long."

Midway through the second practice his ears locked on to a heartbeat in the room speeding up. He glanced over to see that Alfyn had noticed and was watching. Primrose called for him to focus, and he caught her smirking as he looked back over at her.

 

Therion fell back into the bed with a groan. He was tired, but he also wasn't sure he would be able to fall asleep. Or rather, he didn't want to know what sort of dreams would be waiting for him if he did.

Alfyn, a clean bandage over his neck, settled in next to him. "Been a crazy day, hu?"

"Yeah, hell in a hand basket." He got Alfyn to actually laugh a little at that one. He sighed and rolled over, tucking against the apothecary's side. "Not sure how any of us are going to get to sleep."

Alfyn turned to meet him, wrapping him in his arms. "I could fix somethin' for ya if you need me to. Got some chamomile and lavender, good for helpin' ya relax and unwind. Or..." He shifted, tilting his head down to press a light kiss to Therion's head. "I could help ya unwind some other way." Therion felt one of his hands moving down to his lower back. "Either of those sound good?"

Therion chuckled, "I like the sound of that." (They both did, he felt the craving perk up at the back of his mind.) He let Alfyn roll them together, positioning him under the apothecary. "...you sure you still want to do this, even with a demon in my head playing voyeur?"

"Heh, well, he's been watchin' us so far?" He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Therion's ear, "Saw ya learnin' t' dance with Prim earlier. It was really somethin' seein' ya move like that."

"Hm, yeah, really something to see me nearly fall on my ass." Therion settled in, sliding his hands down to tug up Alfyn's shirt.

"More like, somethin' t' see ya swirl your hips around like that." Alfyn pressed his next kisses to Therion's neck, then collar bone, before moving to tug Therion's shirt off over his head.

Therion returned the favor, tossing Alfyn's shirt aside and leaning up to press kisses over the scars he had left on his neck and shoulder. "Hmm, if that got you going bet you're gonna be hard pressed not to just ravage me if I pull of those moves in that dancer's outfit..."

Alfyn let out a nervous laugh, "hooboy, I might catch on fire first." He waited for Therion to lay back again, then leaned down to press a kiss to his lips.

Therion hummed and deepened the kiss, allowing himself to melt into Alfyn's touches. Tracing over his scars, teasing at his chest. They broke away, gasping for breath, and Alfyn began trailing kisses down his body. Under his chin, to his neck and chest. He slid back, eyes locking on to his as he pressed a soft kiss to the bulge that had formed in Therion's pants.

Gods, he bit back a groan, sitting up as he spread his legs apart.

"This okay?" Alfyn waited until Therion nodded before tugging at his laces, carefully pulling down the shorts to expose Therion's cock. The apothecary sucked in a deep breath and carefully took him in hand, stroking slowly. "Phew, alright, I gotta admit- I haven't sucked anyone off before."

Therion let out a breathy laugh, "Well, you already know the first and only rule: don't bite it off."

"Heh, yeah alright, I'll keep that in mind then." He moved in, Therion felt his breath on him before Alfyn's lips parted and he gave him a small, experimental lick to the tip.

Therion let out a sigh as Alfyn's lips wrapped around him, humming before pulling back and licking slowly up his shaft. He teased with his lips and tongue, drawing soft moans and sharp breaths from the thief. Therion felt himself purring as Alfyn drew him deeply into his mouth again, carefully bobbing his head further and further down.

He made a desperate sound and tangled his hands in Alfyn's hair, fighting the urge to thrust into the warmth that surrounded him. The feeling of Alfyn's pulse speeding up as he got more aroused.

"Fuck, Alfyn," his grip tightened and he gasped as Alfyn swallowed around him. He could feel that unmistakable tension coiling deep in his belly as he was worked closer and closer to release. "Gods- Alfyn- I'm close..."

Alfyn hummed against him again, looking up to meet him with half hooded eyes. The tension snapped and Therion let out a shout, shuddering as his hips bucked forward. Alfyn sputtered and coughed, pulling back as what he wasn't able to swallow dribbled down his chin. He licked at his lips as he climbed back over Therion, "mm, feeling better?"

Therion could only nod as he tried to steady his breaths. He reached out, arms clinging around Alfyn's shoulders. Humming into Alfyn's mouth as their lips came together again, tasting himself on his toungue.

He let one of his hands fall away, palming at where Alfyn was straining against his own pants. Alfyn groaned into his mouth, pressing into the contact.

Therion broke the kiss, keeping their lips but a breath apart. "Your turn, medicine man." Deft fingers made quick work of Alfyn's laces, freeing him with ease. He leaned back in to swallow Alfyn's moans as he began stroking his length. He pushed forward, turning them until Alfyn was below him.

He began moving down Alfyn's body, pausing to nip at his neck and shoulder causing Alfyn's breath to hitch. Therion chuckled to himself as he settled between Alfyn's legs, pulling his pants down enough so he could teasingly nibble at his exposed thighs.

Alfyn covered his face and whined, "Therion- c-c'mon-" he gasped, moaning loud as Therion circled his tongue around his tip before drawing him into his mouth briefly.

"Mmm," he licked at the underside of Alfyn's cock, nice and slow, "you want me to stop teasing you? But you make the best sounds..." He considered then took just the tip of him back into his mouth again, reveling in how Alfyn twitched and moaned when he allowed his teeth to lightly graze against him.

He was purring again, rumbling against Alfyn's cock as he bobbed his head further and further down. Whatever Alfyn tried to say was lost amidst heavy breaths and load moans. Therion hummed, adjusting his motions as Alfyn thrusted up into his mouth- pressing down and feeling him in his throat.

He felt Alfyn tense, heard him shout. Therion swallowed down what he could (a different taste from his blood. Musky, salty, but still distinctly Alfyn.)

After giving Alfyn one last lick, Therion climbed back up and collapsed onto his chest with a satisfied sigh. He nuzzled his face into his bare chest, into his favorite spot over his calming heart. Warm arms wrapped around him, he felt Alfyn press one last kiss to the top of his head.

"G'night, Therion. Sleep well."


	25. Storms and Lights

Therion leaned against the wall of the inn common room, at this point they were just waiting for Cyrus to get ready and packed. Alfyn was busy fussing over Olberic on the other side of the room- the former knight pulled a muscle during training that morning. Therion, meanwhile, watched Tressa while she sorted through items in her pack. "I have to admit, I was expecting you to go with Prim's group. You realize I'm going to Wellspring to look for a black market, right? Not exactly your scene."

"I can handle myself fine! No thieves are gonna take advantage of this merchant!" She was confident, Therion had to admit. Not an easy one to fool either, so that much at least was true. "Besides, I have to admit... I'm kinda curious what sorts of things they have for sale there. I mean, I get it's stolen stuff..."

"See, that's not what I'm worried about. You should be thinking about your reputation. Show up in a place like that, people take note, next thing you know thieves are trying to approach you as a fence." Tressa shot him a quizzical expression and he sighed. "Someone who buys stolen goods."

Tressa pouted. "Fine. Guess I'll just help Mister Olberic find that guy he was looking for. But you better take someone with you! We all know what happens when you wander off alone!"

He rolled his eyes, "Okay, that happened once..." a pause. "...twice." He frowned at Tressa's smug expression. "Look, I can't just drag anyone with me to the black market. A large group is too conspicuous. The idea is to sneak in, get the stone, sneak out. We've established you tagging along is out of the question, Olberic and Alfyn are far from being stealthy. And Cyrus... guy's too oblivious- he'd be lucky if someone didn't steal the cloak off his back."

"Well if you don't want any of the guys going with you maybe I should tag along after all! It'll be fun- a sneaky treasure hunt!" Therion started to object again when Tressa interrupted him. "I could wear a disguise! Nobody will know it was me!"

Therion groaned and dragged a hand down his face. "Still no. What I do isn't a game. Slip up, get caught, they might just try to kill us. Or- remember how that guy back in Quarrycrest wanted to sell us? I'll tell you now- young ladies like yourself aren't being sold for _labor_."

"I'm not defenseless you know. I've stuck my fair share of monsters with my spear, and Cyrus has been teaching me more about magic!" Tressa closed up her pack, leaning on it. "Besides, it can't be more dangerous than charging in on a cult."

"Alright, how about this: Prim will castrate me if anything happens to you on my watch. So no." He started to walk away, done with the conversation.

Tressa called after him, "Oh, come on! This isn't over- you're gonna have to pick someone to go with you!"

Alfyn look over, distracted from whatever self-care lecture he had been giving to Olberic. "What are you two bickerin' about?"

"Alfyn! Therion's planning on going to the black market alone!" Tattletale.

Therion groaned and rolled his eyes, "Okay- no. I'm saying _you're_ not the one going with me." He settled into a chair, arms crossed. "Tressa shouldn't risk getting mixed up in the business- frankly none of you should."

Olberic looked between Therion and Tressa as the two glared daggers at each other. He let out a tired sigh. "It would seem Therion is trying to look out for you. The man is experienced in his field, his warnings should not be taken lightly."

Tressa frowned, looking up at Olberic. "But-!"

The knight held up a hand, "However, Tressa has a point that we should be wary of going alone. Thus far solo ventures among our group have not ended well."

Therion grumbled. "I managed fine working alone for years. Look, this isn't dealing with crazy mages or necromancers- just fences, thieves, and shady nobles. I'll be in my element."

"Yeah, but," Alfyn locked on to him with a worried expression. "You don't have t' be alone anymore."

Therion looked away, gaze dropping to the floor as his face burned. Okay, that wasn't fair. Looking at him like that. "I know, just... I'll think about it. Can't finalize any plans until we get there anyway."

 

Four days in and the group found themselves on the outskirts of Atlasdam. The weather had remained dreary the entire way, alternating between overcast and rain. Because of the weather the local froggens were out in droves. It left them tired, muddy, and soaked. They needed a chance to get properly dry, restock their supplies.

Therion stopped as Cyrus began leading the group towards the city. "Hold up, we're not seriously considering stopping here, are we?"

Cyrus looked back at him, confused. "Is there something wrong?" The thief gave him an incredulous look. "...ah! Word of Yvon's plot should have arrived by now, I imagine the guard is on the lookout in case Lucia returns. Though, Therese did say she apparently was making her way to Duskbarrow... at any rate I imagine we should find ourselves safe."

"Yeah, but who knows who else was working for them at that school of yours. We should keep our guard up. Or keep walking, we should be back in Rippletide by tomorrow." As if on cue, a roll of thunder rumbled in the distance. Wonderful. Therion glared up at the sky.

"I was actually hoping to stop by my residence, switch out a few tomes and perhaps clothing as well. All this precipitation has left me in dire need of some dry socks." Cyrus looked around the rest of the group, waiting for their input.

"Best we keep in pairs at the least, to be safe. I do not like the looks of that storm, not if we plan to head south to the coast." Olberic looked to the sky as well, frowning.

Tressa started on the path towards Atlasdam. "Oh yeah, the bluffs get really dangerous whenever we get storms. People have gotten swept out to sea when the wind kicks the waves up. There MIGHT be trouble waiting for us in town, but we'll be in loads of trouble if any of us wind up in the ocean."

Put that way, Therion didn't feel like drowning today. He could swim, sure, but that was before he had a heavy metal cuff stuck on one of his wrists. He sighed and followed the rest of the group. Once inn rooms were rented they split into two groups: Cyrus and Olberic left for Cyrus' home while Tressa, Alfyn, and Therion headed for the shops.

Therion mostly hung back, shackled wrist hidden in his mantel, while Tressa and Alfyn chatted with the shop keepers and gathered up what they would need. Their latest stop was a pharmacy. Alfyn was picking out items he was running low on, and running them by Tressa to make sure they could afford the expenses. Bandages, some dried seeds that couldn't be found wild this time of year, a couple new vials to replace ones that broke. Therion's eyes locked on to a familiar style of bottle- the kind of oil Alfyn kept in his satchel. (It was an ingredient in some of his salves, he had seen him at work before.) Alfyn caught him staring, he snickered and shot him a wink before turning to place it on the counter with the other items.

Therion felt his face burning and he sank into his scarf.

 

The storm ranged all through the night, pounding into the roof of the inn and rattling the windows. Sleep refused to come easy to Therion, over the past few nights he kept catching glimpses of the place he had been dragged to back in Whispermill. A great red eye staring him down, twisted arms clawing in his direction. Blood and bone and rancid flesh. He couldn't move, he couldn't breath, rough hands grabbed him and began to pull him in.

The dream shifted and Therion found himself in a familiar place. Dark, the smell of blood lingering in the air. The batlike creature, shackled in runes, stood before him once more. His own, personal demon.

Therion pushed himself off of the ground, noticing that the runes extended to him as well. Just as they had been in the nightmare, just as they had been when he found himself in hell.

The demon- ( _Craving_ , a soft voice corrected) shuffled closer. Its ears drooped back, head lowered, and it made a soft sound as it nudged him with its nose.

Therion sighed, "What is it this time? Here to finish me off?"

Craving whined and nudged him again. Words drifted through Therion's head. ( _No. No. Feel bad. General, General was bad. Hurt Grass man. Hurt clan mates. Was...was wrong, hurt Sneaky man. Sent to Galdera._ )

"Sneaky man?" Craving nudged him again, ah. "So, what, are you trying to apologize for literally sending me to hell?"

( _Yes- word- sorry. Sorry hurt Sneaky man. We. Fight lots. We not fight? Be friends?_ ) Craving was staring up at him, eyes wide and hopeful.

Therion stared back, eyes wide. This, this was crazy. Ridiculous. He sighed, reached out, and scratched the massive creature behind one of its ears. Craving purred, it echoed loud in the area around them. "One condition, no more ripping out throats. Or sending me to hell."

Craving's ear flicked and it sat up, moving one of its wings to prod at a sequence of runes that hung in the air between them. ( _Bound by blood. I go, you go._ )

Therion frowned, feeling the chain of runes in his hand. He gave an experimental tug away from himself, and he felt his body being jerked with the motion. "Well, great. I don't suppose there's a way to get rid of these?"

Words echoed in his head as the dream faded. ( _Don't know. Sorry._ )

 

The weather had at last cleared over the past few days. They were back in the Highlands now, one more day of travel and they would reach the Sunlands. It had been getting brighter, warmer, and Therion had a headache. He laid with his head in Alfyn's lap, waiting for the pain to subside as the sun set.

He kept thinking about what Craving had told him the other night. He supposed he couldn't say he was too surprised that he'd wind up in hell. But after seeing it for himself he didn't like the prospect of going back. He let out a sigh as Alfyn threaded his fingers through his hair, brushing back his bangs. (Craving was purring, relaxed.) It was a quiet moment. The campfire crackled, he could pick out the scratching of quills as Tressa and Cyrus were both writing in their respective books. He only knew Olberic was still there because of the steady sound of his heartbeat.

"Say, Therion?" He cracked his eyes open and peered at Tressa. "I've been wondering, where did that scar on your face come from?"

Therion closed his eyes again. That scar... it was a memento of the day he fell. As were many more, but that one was the most apparent. Most difficult to hide. "Not going to say. I told you before, what I do isn't a game. Get hurt a lot in my line of work."

He heard Alfyn let out a concerned hum, felt him trace a thumb over the scar in question.

"Hm, speaking of, you know what you're gonna do when we get to Wellspring? Shouldn't be too much longer until we get there." He heard Tressa start writing again.

He huffed out a breath. "Well, step one is finding where the black market is. Once I figure that out, I'll make sure you guys know. But I'm going in for the stone alone- if I don't come back you'll know where to start looking."

 

Night had fallen and the group was getting ready for bed. There was just the one tent for all of them, minus whoever was currently taking watch. Not much privacy if Therion wanted to take a blood meal before they got to the desert.

Alfyn got his attention with a tap on his shoulder. He smiled, holding up a lantern. "Hey, think I saw a cluster of fairyblooms a short ways back. Wanna help me collect some? They're really somethin', glow in the dark."

Therion smirked, "Well, lead the way."

With a quick wave to the others and a promise to be back soon, the two of them set down the path. It wasn't long until they turned off, disappearing into a cluster of trees at the base of a cliff.

"So, are there really flowers out here, or were you just trying to get us alone?" Therion leaned against the rockface.

Alfyn smiled, then dimmed the lantern. In the low light Therion gradually picked out faint glowing from among the trees- clusters of flowers hanging down from vines. "A bit of both. These flowers are really somethin', ain't they? They're good for mana fatigue when brewed into a tea." Alfyn stepped over, pulling a small pouch from his satchel and carefully removing a few bunches of lower hanging flowers with his pocket knife.

Flowers tucked away, Alfyn stepped over to where Therion was leaning. "...also know, the sun's been gettin' to ya. And we're gonna be gettin' to the desert soon."

Therion found himself with his back pinned to the stone behind him, looking up at the apothecary. (He heart his heart racing, it had picked up during their little walk.) He wrapped his arms around Alfyn's shoulders, pulling him down. "Well, we better hurry before they come looking for us." Alfyn chuckled and closed the rest of the distance, Therion purred at the feeling of his lips closing around his.

He pulled away, turning his attention to Alfyn's neck. Strong arms lifted him up and Therion wrapped his legs around Alfyn's waist.

 

Tressa was up for the first watch when they returned. She looked between the two of them with narrowed eyes. "Picking flowers, hu?"

Alfyn chuckled nervously, taking a seat by the fire and opening his satchel. "Well, we did get some fairyblooms." The dishelved state of his clothing did him no favors, Tressa continued to glance between them.

Therion shrugged, "hey, I am a vampire, remember? I need blood."

That earned him an eye roll from the young merchant and she turned her attention to the campfire. "...your pants are still open."

"No they-" he checked, crap. Therion ducked into the tent, Tressa snickering behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look Tressa, Therion's trying to be a good big brother not letting you go to the black market. It is not a place for honest merchants!


	26. Deadly Tango

They arrived in Sunshade the following day. The largest expense was making sure they would have enough water for the long desert trail ahead of them- the price of which was high in the desert town. Therion made his usual rounds, finding he had to slightly change his tactics when wearing the dancer's garb. There were plenty of other people with the profession in town, and if Therion carried himself as they did he would blend right in. Instead of lurking and slinking in the shadows he stepped with confidence. He could work with this, it was easy to pick out who was the most distracted by the sway of his hips and exposed chest- they could school their expressions but nothing could hide their heartbeats. An opening was an opening, and when he made it back to the inn that evening he had swiped a fair share of leaves for the group's funds.

He spotted Alfyn and Tressa at a far table, chatting as Tressa made her account of the day's sales and purchases. Therion sauntered over to the table, sliding into a free chair and shooting Alfyn one of his practiced winks. The effect was immediate- the apothecary stuttered mid sentence and turned a deep red. He chuckled and tossed a coin pouch onto the table. "Think I'm getting the hang of selling the 'dancer' look."

"Hooboy-" Alfyn had to pull his eyes away, staring instead at the grain of the table. "Not used t' seein' ya actin' so... ah... _flirty_. In public."

Therion shrugged, "part of selling the look. Knowing how to act out different roles comes in handy." He scooted closer, leaning over and up to whisper in Alfyn's ear. "Maybe later I'll give you a _private_ dance, I've been practicing."

Tressa rolled her eyes and picked up the coin pouch. "I'd tell you two to get a room but I think Cyrus and Olberic are in there right now. It's crazy- the inn's booked full! We're all gonna be crammed in there tonight."

Therion hummed and looked around the crowded common room. "...well I can think of one upcoming event that might be bringing people in." There was a good chance they weren't the only ones here on their way to Wellspring. "So, Cyrus and Olberic hu?"

Alfyn let out a small, nervous laugh. "Had t' convince Olberic to get some rest. He's been pushin' himself really hard lately, Cyrus told me he was up earlier than usual t' start his training this morning. The professor's keepin' an eye on him, make sure he takes it easy."

 

Camping in the desert was worse than camping in the Frostlands. There was nothing around for making a campfire, and once the sun set the temperature took a drastic dive. No fire also meant no cooking. Not that Therion wasn't used to sustaining himself on whatever food he could get, but maybe he had been starting to get spoiled on regular warm meals too.

The desert was mostly home to various bugs, every now and again massive sandworms would emerge from below seeking out what it thought might be an easy meal. The local beastkin, lizardmen, traveled the sands in mobs. As they drew closer to Wellspring the groups of lizardmen grew larger and more aggressive.

Cyrus sent another would-be ambush running with a powerful lightning spell. "I have never seen so many beastmen in an area before, have we wandered off the trail into their territories?"

Therion eyed the horizon. In the distance a wooden pole stood tall among the dunes, tattered cloth at the top billowing in the breeze. He sheathed his dagger, but kept a hand on the hilt. "Trail marker ahead, we're not lost."

"Think we're almost there?" Tressa pulled out their map, frowning. "We've already camped two nights out here- but aren't there usually less monsters near town?"

Olberic lowered his sword, wiping his brow as he scanned the area. "Aye, the guard should keep monsters at bay with patrols."

 

They kept moving, eventually the sharp edges of buildings came into view in the distance. Haggard looking guards stood at the entrance, they nodded as their group passed- keeping their eyes trained on the rolling dunes. Wellspring was a modest settlement, sandstone buildings built up around a sparkling oasis. Most of the people wandering around looked to be locals, carrying baskets of laundry or groceries. A small flock of chickens, small chicks in tow, pecked in the grasses that grew near the water. Market stalls were set up further into town, baskets piled high with spices and produce.

Therion eyed a man, huddled in the shadow of a desert shrub, draped in rags with a dented metal cup in hand. Beggars were often overlooked, ignored, and as a result they often saw and heard useful things. It would be a good place for him to start. "Well, I have things I gotta do. What do you say we meet up in front of the inn, about an hour?"

Olberic nodded, "We shall meet you there. Pray, if you hear word of a man called Erhardt during your search, let me know." The group split, Olberic and Cyrus heading up the north path while Tressa headed into the stalls (but not before staring Therion down.)

Alfyn still stood at his side, looking slightly worried. "You sure you don't want some help askin' around?"

"I'll be fine, I can survive anything that might get thrown my way from this." Alfyn bit his lip and Therion sighed, motioning for Alfyn to follow him. "...just, let me do the talking."

He noted the pauper eyeing his bangle as he casually approached, dropping a few coins into his cup as an excuse to get in close. "...so, I'm looking for something. A certain stone, stolen from a certain manor..."

"Reckon you're not the only one." The pauper shifted, his gaze wandering to where Alfyn stood behind him.

"He's with me."

The pauper nodded and moved up one of his sleeves, revealing a blistering burn. Therion heard Alfyn suck in a breath- it looked painful. "If yer friend there could help me out here, I'd appreciate it."

Therion knew Alfyn didn't need to be asked twice. He looked back over his shoulder and motioned the apothecary over with a nod of his head. Alfyn hurried over, kneeling next to the man and opening his satchel. He took out his waterskin, carefully rinsing away sand and grime from the burn. Once it was clean he hovered his hand over the surface, expression tightening as he focused. There was the faint glow of magic from his palm and the man sighed in relief.

Once Alfyn had gotten on some salve and was bandaging the burn up ever so gently, the pauper spoke again. "Afraid I can't tell ya much m'self, but, if ye stop by the tavern try orderin' somethin' not on the menu."

Therion nodded and backed off, standing at a short distance while Alfyn finished up.

Alfyn handed the man some bandages, a vial, and a small jar of salve. "Be very careful not to pop the blisters, if you gotta change the bandages keep 'em loose. The salve will help keep it from gettin' too dry, and this should help with the pain." Therion watched as the pauper took a swig from the vial as Alfyn walked away. He was smiling softly- Therion wouldn't be surprised if that was the most care any apothecary had ever given him.

 

The tavern was bustling, a few off duty guards sat at a far table. Muttering to themselves, looking overworked. The other patrons looked to be travelers, merchants here to trade goods and members of their caravans. Therion made his way over to the bar, nodding to the barkeep as Alfyn settled into the seat next to him.

The bartender made his way over, "and what can I get you gentlemen?"

"A mug of mead for my friend here. Myself..." Therion leaned forward, elbow on the bar. "I'll take the same, but mixed with ale and wine."

The bartender didn't even flinch. "Afraid that's not on our menu."

Therion nodded, "That's why I'm ordering it. Figured it might match the color of a certain stone..."

The bartender nodded, stepping away and preparing the drinks. When he returned Therion spotted a small note folded and tucked under his glass. He lifted the glass as if in a toast and pocketed the paper.

 

Therion stood in the shadow of the inn's awning, the paper in hand. "A cavern, south of town. Well, looks like we've found the location." He tucked the paper back into his pocket. "...thanks for the help."

Alfyn grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, "shucks, all this secret message and code talk makes me feel like I've fallen into a storybook. Glad I could help that guy with his burn, had t' hurt somethin' awful."

Therion dropped his voice, "yeah, gotta stick to the code too. Sure the event organizers shut up loose lips fast." He looked around, spotting the rest of their group approaching. "There they are."

Alfyn waved and Olberic, Cyrus, and Tressa rejoined them. "Hey, any luck finding that guy you were lookin' for? Erhardt?"

Olberic shook his head, folding his arms. "Word of him, yes. His whereabouts, no."

"The citizens have only good things to say of the man. It would seem the local lizardmen have been attacking the town and travelers in force lately- from what we gather he escorted a caravan here and has been helping to protect the town." Cyrus paused, considering. "I'm still amazed that both of the twin blades of Hornburg live to this day- it was widely believed they had perished when the kingdom fell."

Therion held up a hand. "No time for a history lecture, Professor." He could tell he was about to get going. The way his eyes lit up, how he smiled a little wider. "I know where I need to go. If I'm not back by sundown, check here first." He pulled out the note, considered, then held it out to Olberic.

Tressa frowned, crossing her arms in front of her. "I still say you should take somebody with you."

He was about to protest when he picked up the sound of metal boots on the path, drawing closer. Guards. He changed position so the fool's bangle was out of view, frowning into his scarf as the armored men drew in on their group.

Thankfully, they didn't seem interested in him. Their focus was instead trained on Olberic. "Word is you people have been asking around town about Erhardt?"

The former knight nodded. "Aye, we have. Why do you ask?"

The two guards exchanged looks, "...could you come with us? Some things are best discussed privately."

"Lead the way." The trio started to leave with the guard. Olberic paused, looking back and locking his stony eyes onto Therion. "Take Alfyn with you. It's dangerous outside of town right now."

Therion frowned, watching them go. There was no room for argument, and he hated to admit it but he was right. The encounters they had on the way here were proof enough as to how dangerous the area was. Monster aside, the town guard was also worn down. Weary. Unlikely to notice an extra commotion outside of town.

"Ah. Well." Alfyn shot him a smile. He was flushed and sweaty from being out in the sun. "I guess we better get going!"

"Guess we should." Therion began walking, falling into step with Alfyn. "With any luck we'll get through this without anyone needing your services."

 

  
Therion motioned for Alfyn to stay put. They were nearing the cavern, and Therion spotted people milling about in the distance. "Stay here, try not to be seen, I'll be back." He slipped forward, closer to the entrance where a convenient pile of crates and barrels rested. Waiting to be unloaded. Therion crouched behind one of the crates, surveying the scene.

Everyone was wearing masks, like some sort of fancy masquerade ball. There looked to be three styles. The most basic, a gray mask with black lining around the eyes, was worn by the people working the event. Guards posted at the door, peons running back and forth to unload the merchandise. Some nobles approached the entrance, their masks were fancier- white with shimmering gold and red decor. The third style mask he saw as a man with a very familiar voice approached. The bartender had a gray mask as well, but the black markings were more intricate and accented in silver.

One of the peons fumbled something, just barely catching it before it could fall. "Careful!" The bartender stepped forward, voice firm. He surveyed the items gathered, glancing down at a list in hand. "These goods are worth more than you sorry lot will ever see in your lifetimes."

Therion watched the bartender go. He had a few options here. Eyeing the clusters of nobles chatting nearby, their masks dangling from their belts, he had a pretty good idea of how they were going to get in.

Alfyn was tucked up under a rock formation, twiddling his thumbs. It was pretty quiet, if there was trouble he would hear something. Right? He jumped when a fancy mask was tossed into his lap. He looked up to see Therion had lowered his scarf, his entire face covered by a mask of his own.

"Suit up, medicine man. We're going in."

 

 

The guards posted at the front greeted them graciously. Inside was bustling, booth after booth loaded up with treasures that would surely make Tressa's eyes bug out from her head. (And make her so, so angry knowing it was all dubious one way or another.) He stepped with confidence, it was one piece of advice he made sure to whisper to Alfyn as they neared the cave: act like you belong there. The apothecary looked a little out of place in his more ragged clothing, but so long as he kept his act together nobody would bat an eye.

The boasting of one of the merchants caught his attention. "Yes, come, feast your eyes upon that deep green hue! You'll find no other like it in the realm- legend has it that it was once the eye of a great dragon of old..."

Through the small cluster of nobles Therion spotted it. Held aloft by a man in dark, intricate robes was the emerald dragonstone. Even in the low light it shimmered bright.

Before he could make his move there was a rush of footsteps, the nobles gasped and backed up as the merchant was suddenly surrounded by a trio of what could only be thieves. Time paused for but a moment, then chaos. There was a flash of steel, a spray of red. (Blood, so much blood, Alfyn wouldn't be able to save him from that wound.)

"Oh gods! They killed him!" A noble woman screamed- people were running left and right. Therion locked on to the thieves making their escape, slipping away in the confusion deeper into the cave.

He gripped Alfyn's arm as they got buffeted by the crowd and set off at a run, ripping away the mask with his free hand. He didn't need the disguise anymore, and it would only hinder his vision. When they caught up the thieves had stopped, laughing and admiring their prize.

The thumping of Alfyn's boots tipped them off. One of the thieves sneered at them, reaching for his dagger. "Oi, ye picked a bad spot t' sneak away with yer _whore_."

What. " _ **What.**_ " It dawned on Therion that he was still in the dancer's garb, clinging tight to Alfyn's hand. He let go, reaching for his own dagger. "I'm no whore- actually you lot have a little something I need. Why don't you hand over that stone. _Pretty please?_ " He twirled his dagger in hand, stepping between Alfyn and the other men.

One of the them barked out a laugh. "Yer a right idiot if ye think ye can get it askin' nice!"

"No, th' real idiots are ye lot leadin' anyone back t' our lair." Therion froze. He knew that voice. The voice that haunted him with harsh words when he was at his lowest, made him toss and turn and loose sleep.

There was a clatter as Therion dropped his dagger. The leader stepped out, draped in that damned green cloak. Ugly scar cutting across his face, long red hair messily sleeked back from his face. More thieves trailed behind him. He looked angry, annoyed, until he spotted Therion. His eyes went wide, genuine surprise. Shock. "...Therion?!"

Darius.

Darius stepped forward until he was within arms reach. "It really is you- can't believe yer still kickin'! What th' hells have ye been up to?" He laugh loud, it grated in Therion's ears. "Must really be somethin', goin' by that fools bangle! And that _outfit!_ " He steadied himself with a hand on Therion's shoulder, laughing harder. Therion was too stunned to shrug him off. "Thievin' aint workin' for ya anymore? Take up whorein' instead? Ah, you've fallen far. A pity, thievin' was th' only thing ye were any good at."

Therion frowned, ducking down into his scarf. "Never thought I'd see you again...see you've found some new partners in crime, hu?"

Darius shrugged. "Nah, they work for me. _They_ do whatever I say."

Alfyn looked between them, confused, brow furrowed. "Therion? Who is this? You...know each other?"

Darius made a mockery of a pout. "Aw, ye don't talk about me, mate? After all we've been through together." He patted Therion on the shoulder then turned, leaving. He snatched up the dragonstone from his lacky on his way past. "Git rid of 'em."

The thieves nodded, the other two drawing their blades and closing in on them as Darius vanished around a corner.

"Therion!" Alfyn shouted, shoving his way in front of him with his axe in hand. He forced one of the thieves back with the force of his parry. That snapped Therion out of his daze, he drew his sword as the other two thieves closed in.

He hissed as he felt a blade graze against his exposed shoulder, he didn't dodge quite fast enough. Therion was spending most of his time trying protect Alfyn's back as the apothecary kept one of the thieves occupied. They were relentless, and though they would knock them back they got charged back in every time. They were outnumbered, at this rate it was only a matter of time until he and Alfyn lost the fight by endurance alone. ( _The smell of blood all around, at this point they had all taken smaller wounds._ )

He heard Alfyn shout behind him ( _more blood, he got hit_ ), he spun around in time to see Alfyn staggering- a cut on his arm bleeding. Time slowed, the thief Alfyn had been fighting had spotted the hole in his defense and was moving in for the final blow. There was no time to think, only act. Therion grabbed hold of Alfyn's shoulder, pulling him out of the way as he vaulted forward, sword poised.

His blade sank into the thief's chest, the man's eyes went wide as the light within them started to fade. Therion yanked back his sword, spinning around in time to parry one of the remaining thieves aiming for his back. One down. He let his scarf drop, bared his fangs. (He needed to end this fight. Protect Alfyn. Bringing him here was a mistake, he got hurt.)

The other thieves looked fearful, but they came at him again anyway. He knocked back one as the other ran around to get his exposed back. A grunt and clash of metal, Alfyn was back up. Still fighting.

Darius was right, he had given his men an order and they sought to see it through. There was only one way this was going to end, either way two more dead bodies would be joining the thief on the floor. (He shouldn't have brought Alfyn along. Stupid.) "Alfyn-" another clash of steel, dancing out of the way of a low angled kick. "I'll handle this, get out of here."

"What?!" Therion heard the other thief swear as Alfyn knocked him back again. "No way- I don't know who that guy was but I ain't lettin' ya face him alone!"

"These guys aren't going to stop until we're dead, or they are." He didn't want Alfyn to bloody his hands again for his sake. The apothecary went quiet and Therion rushed his opponent, cutting into the thief's side. The man gasped and collapsed to the floor, bleeding out. One left.

He turned to assist Alfyn, blood dripped from his sword. "You might as well run if you don't want to end up like your friends."

The remaining thief shot him a frenzied grin, "death is merciful, compared t' what lord Darius will do." He charged forward again, blade arm shaking. The man practically fell onto Therion's sword.

Silence. The fight was over. He felt a warm hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"Therion?" Alfyn sounded concerned. "You're shaking."

He was. He swore he could still hear that horrible laugh, and he was back in the Cliftlands. That fateful day three years ago. He muttered under his breath, "Darius...you never get tired of using people, do you?" He breathed in, trying to steady himself. (The smell of blood was all around, Alfyn was still bleeding. But the craving wasn't clawing at his mind, no, instead it just resonated with his already present concern.)

"I need to get the stone." Therion looked over at Alfyn. (Gods, what did he even think about him right now?) "You're hurt, you should patch yourself up."

Alfyn pulled him into a hug, "I'll be right behind ya. You don't have to face whoever that guy is alone."

Therion clung tight, then let go. He paused only to pick up his dropped dagger. He needed to hurry, before Darius got away. "See you soon."

 

  
Apparently Darius didn't think he would be tailing behind, because he was able to find him soon enough lingering in the cave. As he drew closer he overheard a conversation between Darius and who seemed to be the second in command. The man, draped in a purple cloak and scarf that hid most of his face, seemed to be the one who knew the way around the cavern.

"Right this way, Lord Darius. The exit's not much further." The purple cloaked man paused, considering. "Sir, who was that white haired man back there? You know him?"

Darius snorted, looming over his lackey. "Ain't the sort of thing ye should be askin' about, Gareth. Not if ye value yer sorry excuse for a life."

Gareth took a step back. "O-of course, sorry, Lord Darius."

Taking a deep breath, steeling himself, Therion marched forward. ( _Lord_ Darius, the title was a laugh. But it was just like him, to put himself above others.) "That's far enough, Darius."

"Oh?" Darius turned, "you just refuse t' die, don't you?" He stepped forward, scrutinizing him before a wicked grin spread over his face. "Such pitiful minces- and yer shakin' t' boot!" He drew in close, dropping his voice so his lackies couldn't hear. "Don't tell me, does my betrayal still haunt you?"

Therion clenched his jaw, he should be able to handle this. He saw hell, stared the banished god in the face. Still he found himself dragged back to that day, that laugh. That broken smile. That horrible feeling of the one person he had in his life, his partner. Brother. The only person who he thought had cared about him at all after the loss of his parents. Throwing him away like it had all meant nothing at all.

"Pathetic. Like I said b'fore, ye really are worth less than th' sod beneath m' daisies." Darius crossed his arms, shook his head. "Ain't even worth th' effort t' kill ye m'self."

"Sir-" Gareth stepped forward. "Allow us to take care of this."

Darius nodded and strolled casually away, snorting in disdain. "See that you do- or else. Make sure that bumpkin ain't still sulkin' around either."

No, he needed to focus, Darius had the stone. Therion shifted his stance, but Gareth blocked the way alongside two more thieves draped in dark cloaks.

"You and the boss have a history, don't you? However you knew him, I'm his right-hand man now." Gareth drew out twin daggers, one in each hand. "And you're not getting through me."

Outnumbered, again. Therion drew his still bloodstained sword. Gareth was fast, sparks flew as their blades clashed. Therion blocking one with his sword, the other bashed away with the metal cuff of his bangle. They separated and Therion grabbed his dagger with his free hand- he shouldn't keep blocking with his wrist.

"I can handle this, you two go find that apothecary." The dark cloaked thieves moved to rush past on Gareth's orders.

Oh no, he wasn't having that. (Alfyn was injured- slow. If one thief nearly finished him off before-) Therion spun, throwing his dagger into the back of one thief- it sank right into their shoulder- before swiping at the other with his sword. The second thief shouted, backing off and gripping at his arm.

The action left him open, the whistle of a blade through air was his only warning before he felt it slice across his back. He winced, leaping forward and pivoting back around. As soon as he looked away the dark coat thieves set off at a run again. He should go after them, but Gareth seemed to anticipate his plans. He rushed him again and again, the strikes came so fast Therion could barely strike back between the parries and dodges. When he did the man would block and dodge his blows as well- it was a dangerous dance. Therion's movements were fierce, desperate, he needed to end this quick. (Worry, worry, he shouldn't have brought Alfyn in here. Should have stuck to his original plan. Shouldn't have let him get mixed up in this.)

He froze, feeling his foot slide back to and edge. The paths of the cavern wound above an expansive drop, shit, he should have been paying more attention to where he was. (His mind was buzzing, too many thoughts, too many emotions.) Nowhere for him to run anymore, Gareth moved in. ( _Cornered. Cornered._ Craving _hissed_ \- guided him to lunge forward.)

Therion moved into Gareth's blades, snarling as they stabbed into his stomach and chest. He saw the other thief's eyes go wide as Therion's demeanor shifted, gasped as Therion's sword ran him through. Gareth staggered back before collapsing to the floor, bleeding out.

He steadied his breaths, steeled himself through the pain of his wounds. He needed to hurry back, with any luck-

The sound of hurried footsteps, boots falling heavy to the stony cavern ground, echoed behind him. "Therion!"

Alfyn was alive. A bandage on his arm, covered in scratches, his axe in hand. He ran the rest of the way over, putting away his weapon. "Oh gods- are you alright? What happened?"

It was over. For now. Therion took in an unsteady breath. "...Darius got away." Now that the danger had passed, his mind was starting to catch up to him. His eyes trailed back over to where Gareth was collapsed on the ground.

He had been like him once. Wrapped around Darius' finger. Eager to please him. Foolish enough to think he had meant anything at all to him.

For a moment he saw himself, slowly dying at the bottom of a canyon.

Gareth was still alive, Therion could still hear his pulse. "...Alfyn, I want to ask you a favor." The last time they helped a thief, Miguel, it hadn't ended well. But all these people, Darius didn't care about any of them. He knowingly threw their lives away just so he could escape.

Maybe Alfyn had worn off on him, but he didn't feel like the guy deserved this.

"Do you think we can save him?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sets out Darius beating sticks*


	27. Second Chances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mission: SAVE GARETH is a-go.

Alfyn got to work right away. Gareth's wound was serious, if they sat around debating if it was something they should do he was going to slip away. The words of that other apothecary from Saintsbridge echoed in the back of Alfyn's mind. How could he ever be the one to make a call like that, deciding who deserved to live or not? Most of the thieves they had fought off, the option already slipped away. (How could he judge when he's taken so many lives himself now?)

"Alfyn, what next?" Therion got the apothecary's attention, helping by keeping pressure on the wound. They had to strip away the man's cloak and shirt (and Therion had checked him over for more weapons as well). His light skin was starting to pale, sweat clung to the dark curls of his hair.

He pulled bandages from his satchel. "Here, we need to sit him up, keep holdin' pressure."

 

"Alright," Alfyn sat back, wiping his brow. "He ain't outta the woods yet, but, he's got a fighting chance now." He pulled a clean cloth from his satchel to wipe off his hands, turning his attention to Therion.

Therion was staring at his hands, bloody once more, this time mostly from trying to save somebody's life. (Craving whispered, _lick it off._ ) Alfyn passed him the cloth and he began wiping off the mess to the craving's disappointment.

"Your turn now. Ya got a lotta nasty cuts there." Alfyn reached over, taking Therion's scarf.

"I'm fine, we should be looking at your injuries next." It was a blatant lie, the stab wounds in his chest and stomach hurt like all hell. At this rate he was going to be ravenous for a blood meal by the following day.

Alfyn tsked, "at least let me bandage ya up. You're losin' a lot of blood."

Therion relented, lifting the meager bit of cloth that decorated his chest.

 

"...I mean, I know you can bounce back from some pretty bad stuff. I just, gods Therion I can't help but worry when I see ya get hurt." Gareth stirred, cracking his eyes open. He slowly comprehended the two men in conversation next to him. The apothecary was busy fussing over the thief in dancer's garb, tying off the last of the bandages on the smaller man's wounds. "Think we're gonna need to stop by the butcher's, pick you up more animal blood?"

Therion shook his head, "no, it's not as bad as the time that necromancer drained me." His eyes flickered down to Gareth, locking on to the man's increasingly confused look. "Well, guess that's one conversation to wake up to. I'm willing to bet you've got some questions about now."

Gareth moved to sit up and Alfyn turned to him immediately, gently pushing him back down before he could hurt himself. He reached to his belt, hand searching, but whatever weapon he grabbed for was gone. "You're wasting your time if you think I'm going to tell you anything." His heart was racing, Therion could hear it clearly.

"Then it's a good thing that's not the reason we saved your ass." Therion leaned back on his hands, the chain of the fool's bangle clinking on the floor. He winced and shifted his weight off of his injured shoulder.

Gareth frowned, "then why the fuck bother? What are you bastards planning to do to me?"

Alfyn looked over at Therion, who remained silent. Mulling it over in his head, how to best put it into words. "Consider it showing you the mercy I didn't get to see." He looked away, at the trickle of sands that drizzled from above into piles on the floor. "You were wondering how Darius and I knew each other, right?" He turned his head back to look between Alfyn and Gareth.

The injured thief stopped squirming, settling back onto the ground so Alfyn would finally take his hands off him. Alfyn was frowning slightly, concerned, "Darius, you mentioned that name earlier. Was that who that guy was? In the cape?"

Therion nodded and sighed. "Yeah. I first met him ten years ago. I was just a kid, trying to get by. Got caught trying to steal a meal, town guard dragged me off to the gaol. Darius was my cell mate. Never had any friends before, and after losing my parents..." he shook his head. "He was the first person to treat me like I had any sort of promise, skill. There was a time that we were near inseparable. Partners in crime. Looked out for each other, split the spoils..."

Therion stopped. Those earlier years, they had been genuinely good for the most part. The two of them against the world, and with Darius at his side he had felt near unstoppable. "I thought I was an exception, how he treated and looked down on other people. I thought, that what we had meant as much to him as it did to me..."

"It was three years ago. We had been at odds with another group of thieves, in hindsight it was one of the worse groups we could have screwed with. They weren't above using violence or killing to get what they wanted. Not worthy of the title of thief, in my opinion..." He trailed off, staring at the ground. "They approached Darius. Offered him a position in their gang, a hefty sum of leaves. All he had to do was make me disappear. Admitted as much once he led me to the top of a cliff, beat me half to death." He reached up, moving his bangs to reveal the scar over his eye. "This was from him, dragged a knife over my eye. And this one..." he let his bangs fall back into place, pointing at what was visible of the large scar that cut across his chest. "was the strike that sent me over the edge."

Gareth remained quiet. Alfyn looked close to tears.

Therion's voice got softer, "it should have been the end. Broken in every sense of the word, just waiting for some scavenger to finish me off. But...necromancer found me first. And, well, haven't been quite human since." He locked eyes with Gareth. "Darius doesn't care about people. He throws people away the moment it becomes convenient for him."

Gareth shook his head. "A shame you went through that. But. It's not like that. I'm his right-hand man, he values me-" He started to sit up again, winced, then dropped back down.

"If he gave a shit about you he wouldn't threaten you with death threats for asking a question." Friends, real friends, didn't do that. They don't threaten your life, or to beat you. They don't mock you when you're down, crying from a bad dream in the middle of the night. He dragged himself to his feet, picking up the band of cloth he refused to call a shirt and throwing back on his scarf. "Alfyn, can we move him? I think I hear bugs buzzing around in here."

"Yeah, hang on. That wound has t' hurt somethin' awful, let me whip somethin' up real quick." Alfyn pulled a few vials, different extracts and tonics he had brewed from herbs. Gareth watched him carefully, eyeing the vial that Alfyn eventually held out to him. "Here, this should help."

He pushed the vial away. "Don't bother. Just, just go."

"Sorry, but I'm not one to leave a patient to suffer." Alfyn held the vial out again. "This will help take the edge off the pain. I promise ya, I'm here to help."

"Look man, we leave you here and you're going to get eaten by monsters." Therion paused, snorted out a short laugh, and cracked a toothy grin over his scarf. "I mean- yeah I'm a monster too. But I have standards."

"Yeah. Hilarious." Gareth replied dryly. "I drink that and next thing I know I'm waking up in the gaol, or worse."

"Look, you don't trust us. We don't trust you. But we're not like Darius. If we were going to torture you we wouldn't be talking right now." Therion gathered up Gareth's cloak and weaponry, pocketing one of the daggers. "We're dragging you out of here one way or another and it'll be less painful for you if you take your damn medicine."

Gareth grumbled, relenting and allowing Alfyn to tilt him up enough to drink down the concoction. He grimaced at the taste.

"There we go." Alfyn began packing up his supplies as Gareth's eyelids began to droop. "Get some rest, you're gonna need it."

"...bastards." Gareth slurred out before he went under.

Alfyn carefully gathered Gareth in his arms. He was about the same size as Therion, maybe a little more lanky. "Alright, I got him, now we just gotta get back to town."

  
As they left the cave it was apparent that the market had come to an abrupt end. The front of the cave was deserted, any sign of the booths and people from earlier were gone. The sun was nearing the horizon as they made the walk back to town. Therion was on edge, he was on point if any monsters showed up. But, the bands of lizardmen from earlier were gone. He spotted some of the desert bugs and regular lizards going about their animal ways, which he steered their group around, but there were no ambushes. They managed to get back to Wellspring without further incident.

They made their way to the inn, getting a room. Alfyn gave a brief description of their other travel companions, asking the innkeep to send them up if they stopped by. Therion paid for the room, grabbed the key, and led the way.

Alfyn laid Gareth in the bed furthest from the door, checking to make sure he wasn't bleeding through his bandages. Once he was sure the patient was settled and would be comfortable, he turned to Therion.

He didn't say anything, he waited for Therion to put down what he was carrying then rushed over, pulling him into a gentle hug (being mindful of his various wounds), sniffling.

Therion returned the embrace, clinging to Alfyn tight. "...sorry. For dragging you into this mess."

Alfyn drew in a stuttering breath, "gods, don't be. Sorry- I just-" he tightened the hug slightly, "...I hate it. That you got hurt so much." He pulled back, wiping away tears. "You were shaking, talking about him... just. Stuff like that, it hurts people on a level that apothecaries can't reach. And I just- wish I could help. But how do you heal a busted soul?"

"...you should give yourself more credit. Honestly," he reached out, taking Alfyn's free hand. "You've already helped, just by... being you. Hell, you and everyone else you decided to drag along. It's not, gone, but... I don't wish I died that day three years ago anymore."

A fresh wave of tears welled up in Alfyn's eyes and he pulled him back into a desperate hug.

 

It was dusk, Alfyn was redressing Gareth's wound when there was a knock on the door, Tressa's curious voice carrying through from the other side. "Therion? Alf?"

Therion opened the door, admitting Cyrus and Tressa into the room. "Where's Olberic?"

"We found Erhardt- you should have seen it! We faced down a lizardman general- mister Olberic and Erhardt were fighting off their warriors left and right! And then they had a duel!" Tressa plopped onto the free bed and stopped rambling, noticing the injured man in the other bed. "Whoa- who's that? I thought you were after a stone- why did you bring back some guy?"

"Was there trouble at the market?" Cyrus seated himself in a chair. "It looks like both you all sustained some serious injuries."

Therion sighed. "Things could have gone better...and it's a bit of a long story. I don't suppose we could fetch Olberic? I'd rather not repeat it."

 

"...I'm just surprised is all. Didn't he try to kill you? And, I mean, we sure we want a strange thief rooming with us?" Tressa eyed the thief in question as he groaned, slowly opening his eyes and trying to take in the room.

"The plan is to keep a close eye on him. Don't get me wrong, I don't trust the guy as far as Cyrus could throw him." A pause, the clinking of a chain as Therion shifted his stance. "I know the last time we helped another thief it didn't end so well, but, I wouldn't be here right now if Alfyn hadn't given me a chance to begin with."

Cyrus glanced at the injured man as well. "And just what is the plan, if the man does manage to recover? Surely we can't keep watch on him forever- are we to hand him over to the guard?"

Therion shook his head, "not sure, haven't thought ahead that far. Rather not just send him to the gaol. Doesn't do anything to help guys like us. Once out we're back where we started. If we're lucky enough to get back out again at all."

"Oh, hey, easy now." Alfyn noticed Gareth was awake when the man tried to push himself up again. The man looked pained, confused, poorly masked fear just below the surface. "If you wanna sit up, let me grab some more pillows."

The apothecary piled up pillows to support Gareth's back, gently guiding him as he sat up so as to not irritate his injury. Gareth's eyes lingered on each of them in turn. Tressa sitting with her pack hugged in her lap on the other bed. Cyrus, his scholar robe draped over the back of his chair, sitting with an open book at the table. He jumped when he spotted Olberic on the other side of his bed, standing stoically by the window.

Gareth kept nervously glancing back over at the warrior, as if worried the man might just strike him down any moment. "...you've got, quite the gang here."

Therion shrugged. "I'm the only thief among them. We're travelers, all got places to be for different reasons. Safer to go together." He snorted, pointing at Cyrus with his thumb. "Cyrus here is a _history teacher_ , of all things. You should hear the shit he's found himself in, it's crazy."

He picked up a plate from the table and walked over, handing it out to the other thief. "Here, hope you like chickpeas. I swear they put them in everything here."

Gareth eyed the food: a bowl of hummus, pieces of pita. He gingerly took the plate and settled it in his lap, shaking his head. "Everything about this is crazy." He went quiet, staring down at the food. Therion didn't miss the slight tremble in his hands, the speed of his heartbeat.

When he spoke again his voice was barely above a whisper. "You people are wasting your time. I'm a dead man either way. When Lord Darius finds out..." he stopped, lip trembling. "Last guy who crossed him. He lasted a full three days before he actually died."

Silence lingered in the room. Therion had told the others about Darius, what he was like when he knew him. He noticed how afraid of him his men seemed to be. It was starting to sink in that the man had only gotten worse- or perhaps he was always that way. He did admit that what kindness he had ever showed him was all a ruse. Just keeping him around because he was useful.

"If I may," Gareth flinched when he heard Olberic speak. Alfyn reached over to keep his food from spilling over the bed. "This town could use more aid in protecting its borders. An old friend of mine may just be willing to take you in. I shall talk with him tomorrow."

"And we'll keep an eye out for ya too. Gonna be a few weeks until you're back on your feet." Alfyn gave his shoulder a gentle pat. Gareth didn't respond.

A few weeks, they were going to need to send someone ahead to Bolderfall. The others would be wondering what happened to them, and Alfyn wasn't about to leave this guy when he still needed treatment. (A few weeks in a fucking desert town of all places. He didn't typically stick in one place so long.)

 

It had been a couple of days, Gareth didn't talk much in that time. He mostly slept, the stronger concoctions Alfyn gave him for pain knocking him out for most of the day. It was the middle of the night, and Therion was keeping watch while Alfyn got some much needed sleep in the other bed. Between what Olberic had done for the town and the dire condition of Alfyn's patient, the inn was allowing them to stay for free. It was one less thing to worry about.

There was movement as Gareth pulled up on his blankets. He stared up at where Therion was leaning against the wall between the two beds. "...no mage tonight?"

Therion shook his head. "Nope, left this morning. So he won't be chatting your ear off for a while." Cyrus had taken most of the night watches, but he and Tressa had left for Bolderfall to inform the rest of their group of what had happened.

The injured thief looked away from him. "...you're fucking creepy, you know that? Look like you should be a ghost."

Therion shrugged. "Well I guess you're stuck with me haunting you tonight. I'd argue I'm a bit worse than just a ghost, though."

"Yeah. Saw the apothecary had a new bandage on his neck." He pulled the blankets up to his nose. "He's got scars too...catch glimpses of them under his collar."

"What, still afraid I'm going to bite you?" Gareth glanced nervously at him, Therion sighed. "I'm not going to bite you. Alfyn and I- we have an agreement."

"By ' _agreement_ ' you mean the two of you are closer than just travel partners." He lowered the blanket again, slowly, resting his hands on his chest. "...I've been wondering. You said you and Darius were close. Was it...were the two of you together?"

"No." Therion moved to pull up a chair, taking a seat by Gareth's bedside. "I trusted him, would have died for him. But it wasn't anything romantic. I saw him like family, like a brother if anything." He watched Gareth's expression, through the pain and anxiety was a hint of uncertainty. He looked like he was thinking about something.

An idea cropped up in Therion's mind. "...you had a crush on him."

Gareth's face went red. "It... went a bit further than just a crush. We- he never said it himself but..."

So that was it. "You thought he loved you- but you're still scared half to death he might kill you."

Gareth wiped at his eyes, turning his face away in the hopes of hiding his tears. "Thought that, he'd warm up t' me, just had to keep on his good side... felt bad for him. Caught him a couple times, deep in his mugs, he'd be so lonely. Wanted to be there for him. Nobody else was." His free hand griped the blanket tight. "Gods. He told me I was stupid for thinking it meant anything at all... but he'd come back, time and again, mostly when he was drunk...damn it all I'm an idiot."

The silence lingered between them, interrupted only by the soft sounds of Gareth trying to hold back sobs. Therion frowned, looking away. "I'm sorry. That he used you like that." He reached over, digging around in Alfyn's satchel until he found one of the cloths he used when cleaning people up. "Here." He held the cloth out to Gareth.

Gareth eyed him, then the cloth, then him again before accepting it. "...thanks." He blew his nose, sniffed, and stared up at the ceiling.

"Don't mention it." Therion looked towards the window, at the moonlight filtering into the room. "You should get some more sleep. You need another dose of the pain tonic?"

Gareth nodded, and Therion got up to retrieve it from where Alfyn had left it on the table.


	28. Tentative Allies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter one. Bit of bonding, bit of severe boredom because hooboy it takes TIME to heal from being stabbed through by a sword.

A week had gone by since the incident at the black market. Gareth was no longer sleeping as much, and Therion noticed he seemed to be growing a little less timid around them by the day.

Alfyn was the least threatening of the group and would pass the time during his watches and treatments talking with the thief. Stories Therion had heard before of his life in Clearbrook, how he got into medicine, he would ask Gareth questions every now and again. Where he was from, if he had any family anywhere. (The thief eventually admitted his parents were travelers, but their caravan spent a lot of time in the Sunlands. He gave no word as to why he became a thief, or what happened to the caravan in question.)

Olberic kept his word about speaking with his friend and the local guard captain about finding a place for Gareth in their numbers. He brought them by for introductions. Therion had expected Erhardt to be of a similar build to Olberic from the stories he had heard from Cyrus, but no. The man had an air of elegance to him; powerful yet graceful. He wore his hair long, golden locks draping past his shoulders. (And how could he stand it, in a climate as warm as this?) They spoke of plans for the future, of their duty to protect those around them. But also of betrayal, of regrets, of being mislead and not realizing it until it was too late.

It was apparent Gareth was still unsure of it, of being given a second chance. Therion would have been too. It was rare, for a known thief or brigand to be given a chance like this. To have a chance to do better, to take up honest work. So many people found themselves in the profession, did poorly, then found themselves with no way out.

 

After the other night, Gareth hadn't spoken about Darius again. Therion didn't press the matter, hell he'd rather not talk about the guy either. Tired of sitting around in awkward silence, Therion broke out a deck of cards to help them pass the time.

Gareth stared him down. "You're cheating."

Therion shrugged, gathering up the cards to shuffle the deck. "What can I say, I'm good at reading people and that's half the game."

"Bullshit. Let me shuffle, you're doing something."

Therion rolled his eyes, but handed the cards over. He looked over at the door while Gareth shuffled; Alfyn had stepped out to replenish some of his apothecary supplies. Maybe when he got back they could deal him in too.

"So, what's with that getup anyway?" Gareth started dealing the cards onto the bed, where they had been playing. "You actually a dancer, or is it some poorly thought out disguise?"

"Needed something I wouldn't broil alive in, friend picked it out." Therion picked up his cards, looking them over with a cool expression.

Gareth snorted. "You realize that there's plenty of ways to dress for the desert that aren't so revealing, right?"

"Again, a friend picked it out." It also drove Alfyn crazy, as an added bonus. "And it's not poorly thought out. I know a few moves. Scored quite a bit off some fools too distracted by their loins to keep an eye on their purses."

Gareth raised his eyebrows, "and your boyfriend doesn't care about you sleeping around?"

"Wh- no. Gods no I don't sleep around. I told you, I'm good at reading people." He discarded a card, adding a new one to his hand. "Besides, you think I want to risk more people finding out I'm a monster?"

"Alright, so you don't sleep around, but you still got strangers eyeing you. And he doesn't, accuse you of it?"

Therion shook his head. "No, Alfyn, he's a good guy." He smiled, ever so slightly. There was a click as the door to the room unlocked. "Damned if I didn't meet the guy by sheer dumb luck, but, it's probably the best thing to ever happen to me."

"Heh, shucks, I thought I felt my ears burnin'" Alfyn stepped into the room, waving at them before closing the door. "What're you two up to?"

They revealed their hands and Gareth swore, tossing his cards on the bed in front of him. "Your boyfriend here keeps cheating, that's what. If we were playing for leaves he'd have cleaned me out!"

"Sounds like you're just a sore loser. What can I say, I'm an expert at reading others." Therion gathered up the cards again. "Here, you wanna deal in, Alfyn?"

"I dunno, I got an awful poker face. And ya can hear how fast our hearts are goin'." Alfyn pulled up the other chair anyway, seating himself on the other side of the bed.

"...he can _what_?" Gareth shot Therion a glare, the other thief laughed while cracking an innocent smile. "You bastard."

 

It was morning, gentle sunlight filtered into the room. Olberic sat awake, keeping watch, while everyone else in the room slept. Gareth had begun sleeping through the nights for the most part. Alfyn and Therion slept in the other bed, curled around each other. A knock sounded from the door, jolting both thieves awake.

Therion let out an irritated groan, he had been awake most of the night.

Gareth glanced around the room, at the window, "wa's goin' on?"

Olberic stood and, without a word, walked over to the door. The moment he cracked it open something large and furry shoved the gap wider, slipping into the room. Linde rubbed against Olberic, purring softly, before hopping up into Alfyn and Therion's bed. Linde chirped and batted at Alfyn until the apothecary was awake.

"Hu- wha-?" He reached up a hand, which Linde immediately rubbed against. "Linde?"

Gareth had pulled himself up into a seated position, staring bug-eyed at Linde as more people filtered into the room. "...what. That's- that's a snow leopard."

"Linde is a gentle creature, she attackens on mine command." H'aanit smiled softly as she watched Linde greet their companions. She squirmed her way between Therion and Alfyn, laying between (and on) them.

Primrose was smiling at the scene as well. "Now isn't that precious." Therion made an annoyed sound that came out more pitiful than he had intended. Her eyes drifted to Gareth, who looked about ready to bolt from his bed injury or no. Primrose's expression shifted, colder. An air of warning. "...and you must be the other thief we were told about."

"Linde, you're sitting on Therion." Alfyn had sat up and was trying to gently coax the snow leopard to move. "I get you're happy t' see us but he was up late."

"Oh, should we go to another room so he can rest?" That voice. Therion wiggled out from under Linde enough to sit up, staring at the last person to filter into the room.

"Ophilia?" Shouldn't she be back in Flamesgrace right now? After all, her journey was over. The Kindling was complete. (No more lantern either. She wouldn't need it anymore, would she.)

Tressa sat on the foot of the bed (which, at this point, had more than enough creatures piled on it.) "We wanted to see how you guys were holding up. It's like, half past nine, you're all usually up by now."

Therion rubbed his eyes. "Been sleeping in shifts. Make sure our new friend over there doesn't pop his stitches trying to take a dump or something in the middle of the night."

That snapped Gareth out of his shock and confusion, he flushed red and pulled the blanket up to cover his chest. The fact he needed help to relieve himself was a point of embarrassment- almost as bad as Alfyn insisting on helping to clean him up since he had to be very careful not to get his stitches wet. "...fuck you, did you have to word it like that?"

Tressa made a face. "Wait, seriously? Gross."

"Part of the nursin' process, Tress." Alfyn stretched, sliding his way out of bed. "Speakin' of- Gareth, gotta change your bandages, bud."

Gareth eyed the women. "Does there have to be an audience?"

"I'm out." Tressa made her way for the door. Primrose and Cyrus followed, H'aanit whistled for Linde.

Ophilia stayed put, "Alfyn, would you care for some assistance?"

"Well, he's got stitches in. Got ran through with a sword, but it looks like it missed his vitals. We'd have t' be careful not t' heal it so much the stitches get stuck, don't wanna leave a worse scar..." Alfyn pulled his hair back and dressed as he ran the situation over with the cleric.

Gareth eyed Therion as he dragged himself out of bed too, making his way for the door. "Wait, where are you going? You usually help."

Therion gave a tired, dismissive wave. "Holy magic and I don't mix. Let me know when I can come back in."

 

When Therion came back in Gareth was out of bed, pulling on his shirt. "You're looking better."

"I'm fu-" Gareth eyed Ophilia. "I'm ready to get out of this room. Feel myself going crazy just laying around."

Olberic cleared his throat. "If you so wish, I could take you to the guard house. Captain Bale has been making preparations for initiating you into their number."

"...yeah, that, well it's worth a shot." Gareth breathed out a small laugh. "Guy like me, part of the guard. Whoever would have thought."

Alfyn smiled brightly at him, holding out his hand. "Good luck out there, try to stay in one piece ya hear?"

Gareth accepted the handshake. "I'll try... guess I should thank you. For not just leaving me to die back there." He turned to Therion once Alfyn released his hand. "Both of you." He held out a hand.

Therion took Gareth's hand, after a moment of hesitation the other man pulled him into an awkward hug. "You guys watch your backs, especially if you find yourselves up near Northreach." He took in a breath, steeling himself. "And...thanks. For listening. The other night."

Therion gave his back a pat and they parted. Northreach, was that where Darius was hiding out? "You watch your back too. Heh, and if Erhardt is anything like Olberic in his training, say good-bye to sleeping in."

Gareth pulled back on his cloak, then paused as he reached for his daggers. Once it was apparent nobody was going to stop him he stashed the weapons away on his person. He followed Olberic and Ophilia out, as soon as the door clicked closed Therion collapsed back into bed. He needed more sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Therion is banned from group poker night.


	29. Old Friends and Warnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut warning!
> 
> and note 3/19/2019- might disappear for a few days. Petsitting, a very energetic, large puppy. When I get back! Riverford looms on the horizon!

When Therion finally came down the others were just gathering to have lunch. They met up at the tavern, gathering and chatting around one big table. There was something pleasant about being with everyone again, it felt something like home. It was a feeling Therion hadn't experienced in a long time.

"...Linde tried to cheer up Lianna as well. In her own way. It was, rather alarming. But the sentiment was sweet." Ophilia smiled down at Linde, who was splayed out under the table.

"Linde huntend and broughten Lianna a gift. It is her way to showen support, thaten she cares." H'aanit smiled and shook her head. "She knowens not that a deaden rabbit can be distressing."

"Shucks, that would be somethin' to wake up to." Alfyn nabbed a flatbread from the basket at the center of the table. "How is your sister doin'?"

"She's talking and reaching out to others again." A somber look crossed Ophilia's face. "Father's death hit her terribly hard. But," a soft smile, "she knows she is surrounded by those who love and care for her. She just needed a little reminder of that."

Therion hummed to himself. "If only everyone could be so lucky..." that, didn't come out quite as he wanted it to. "Sorry, I don't mean- it's. Good. That, she has people like that..."

Ophilia nodded. "That's part of why I wanted to keep traveling, actually. I understand that, not everyone receives help in their time of need. But, perhaps, we can help who we can."

Alfyn held up his mug, "I'll drink to that!"

Therion smiled, sipping his own drink while tuning in to the other conversations going on at the table. Primrose was giving Tressa a small talk on behaviors to look out for when alone in the markets. (From what he could gather, Tressa had run into a drunken creep the other day in Sunshade. Part of him bristled at the thought, but it sounded like Prim had her back at the least.)

Cyrus and Olberic, meanwhile, were talking about what Olberic had pieced together concerning the details of the fall of Hornburg. Therion half listened, until the name of a particular town jumped out at him.

"...from what I was told, Werner can be found in Riverford. If I am to bring the man to justice for what he has done, that is where I must go."

Therion's mug hit the table, the clatter drawing attention from the others. "Did you say, you're going to Riverford?"

Olberic nodded and Cyrus shot him a quizzical look. "That he did, is there something amiss, Therion?"

"...no, maybe, depends." Therion tugged on his scarf and he felt Alfyn's hand on his shoulder. "...grew up there. Wasn't exactly a pleasant place to be back then. Worst place for a thief to get caught. When I was there the guard were pretty corrupt too."

Cyrus frowned, considering. "So you are saying it may not be safe for you to accompany us to this town?"

Therion shrugged. "Not sure, it was a good ten years ago. Got out of there soon as I could. Could be the same, could be worse. I'll just have to keep a low profile, done it before." He turned to Tressa. "If it's as bad as it used to be, we're going to need some extra funds to get in."

He wasn't looking forward to going back there. At the back of his mind a faint memory drifted up, being told to behave himself otherwise he might find himself being burned one day. Like those who came down with the plague. Like... were those just stories told to keep kids in line? He couldn't remember. But he remembered the smell, the smoke and fire.

"Therion?" He looked up, meeting Alfyn's concerned expression. "You sure ya wanna go back there? We could always wait for everyone back in Clearbrook or something."

"If any town's going to need your help, Alfyn, it's going to be Riverford. I'll be fine. Besides, if you all run into trouble I know the back allies and hidden paths." And really, when did they not find trouble going into a new town?

 

The journey back north towards Sunshade was not nearly as grueling as the trip to Wellspring had been. The army of lizardmen had truly been dispersed, scattered. They made good time on their way out of the desert.

Therion never wanted to see sand again, he drew in a grateful breath of fresh air as they made their way over the bridge into the Riverlands. Sand an sweat clung to his bare skin where his dancer's garb left him exposed.

He spotted Alfyn crouching by the riverbank, his satchel sitting off to the side as rinsed off his hands and gathered some fresh water. The group was taking a brief break, at this point they weren't too far from Alfyn's hometown. They would likely make it there by sundown.

Therion settled on the bank next to Alfyn, pulling off his boots to dip his feet in the cool water. "You excited?"

"I am! Heh, been away from home for a while now, it'll be good t' see how everyone's been!" Alfyn put away his water skin in his satchel before cupping water into his hands, splashing it up to rinse his face. "Phew, bit of water feels good after bein' in the desert so long!"

"It sure does." Therion heard running steps behind him, smirked, and ducked out of the way before Tressa could shove him into the water. There was a splash as the young merchant fell into the water instead, Therion laughed. "Nice try, but it takes a bit more than that to sneak up on me."

"Darnit!" Tressa snatched up her hat before it could wash away, standing up in the shallow water. "Yeah, well, try to dodge this then!" She smacked the water, sending small waves up at the thief.

"Hey, come on, what are you twelve?" Therion shielded his face from the splashing with his arm, retaliating by kicking water back at her.

He paused when he felt a warm arm wrap around his shoulders. Alfyn had an absolutely wicked grin on his face. "I dunno, think Tressa's right- you could use a bath!" Alfyn tipped forward, pulling Therion with him into the water.

Therion pushed himself up, Alfyn and Tressa laughing on either side of him. He shoved his wet hair out of his eyes to shoot a glare at Alfyn, but it was without bite. He couldn't keep himself from smiling either. He waited until Alfyn was moving to get up then pounced, sending them both splashing back down. Tressa shouted as the spray of water hit her as well, once it settled she splashed back in retaliation.

It was apparent when they got out of the water that the dancer's garb was not the best choice for the water. The thinner material, while a blessing in the dry desert, clung to his form. The lighter colored fabric going slightly translucent. He became aware of this partly from the sound of Primrose giggling from where the others were seated, partly from Alfyn's reaction when he finally stood up out of the water. (He heard his heart rate pick up, glanced back to see his eyes had gone wide. It was a cute look on him, as always.)

He was going to have to change clothes.

 

When they got to Clearbrook the town was quiet, most of the townspeople already heading in for the night as the sun was starting to set. They made a brief stop at the inn to book rooms for the night, the price was affordable even before Alfyn put a good word in for them. They also saved leaves since Alfyn could sleep at his home.

On their way to the tavern, as Alfyn was insisting they had to try the food there, Therion spotted someone running towards the group. A satchel slung over his shoulder, wearing the same style of green vest as Alfyn.

"Hey, that's- Zeph!" Alfyn smiled bright, waved, and ran to meet his old friend. He pulled the other apothecary into a bear hug, lifting him slightly off the ground. He said something to his friend before beckoning him back towards the group.

The commotion as everyone went through their introductions was a bit much, Therion tucked into his scarf and fell in close to Alfyn. A warm hand wraped around his, Alfyn smiling reassuringly at him. (He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little nervous. This guy was Alfyn's oldest friend, he talked about him at length. What if the guy didn't like him? Would he try to separate them?)

Zeph turned his attention to him, his eyes darted to where Alfyn was holding his hand and his eyes went wide. "Wait-" he cracked a grin and let out a short laugh, "wow, you leave a couple months and you came back with a boyfriend? Didn't think you had it in ya, Alf!"

Alfyn chuckled out a nervous little laugh, "Heh, got lucky I guess- this here is Therion. Therion, this here is Zeph!"

Therion held out his free, shackleless hand. "So you're the famous Zeph, heard a lot about you."

Zeph laughed again, "Nothing too embarrassing, I hope!" He paused, looking Therion over. "Say, Alfyn this isn't the same guy you brought back all stung up by wasps? The day you set out?"

"...guilty as charged." Therion tugged up on his scarf. Great, his first impression was already made- him being knocked out because he couldn't handle an oversized bug.

"Well, good to see you in good health!" Zeph's smile was as genuine as Alfyn's. "Dang, I was gonna invite you over for dinner, didn't know you'd have so many new friends with you!"

"We were plannin' on headin' t' Magg's- shucks but ya probably already have dinner goin'." Alfyn paused, thinking.

"Was about to get started- been a busy day. Marley's boys were playin' around swingin' on a vine earlier- turns out it was poison ivy." Zeph shook his head. "Anyway- we can catch up more in a bit, I'll go get Nina and meet you there!"

 

Clearbrook's tavern, like the town, was small. They had to split their group between two tables. What other people were there seemed to be locals, they recognized Alfyn and greeted him with smiles and waves. Nina sat between Primrose and Tressa, and when Therion glanced over the girl was whispering something to Prim while the dancer tried not to giggle too loud. Linde made her rounds between the two tables, poking her head into laps for attention or scraps of food.

Zeph found himself sandwiched between Alfyn and Cyrus at the table where the men had gathered. Alfyn talked enthusiastically about things that had happened during their travels. The lighter things, for the most part. Meeting Flynn and Ellen in Goldshore, Tressa and Therion's antics, finding Mercedes in Atlasdam. Zeph went red when he heard she had been asking about him.

In return, Zeph shared how the townspeople had been fairing lately. "...and, not a surprise, but old Alec has a cough again. Refuses to give up that pipe of his." A pause. "So what else have you been up to, are those-" he reached over, tugging at Alfyn's shirt collar. "Scars? What sort of trouble have you been getting into?"

"Ah-" Alfyn flushed, glancing for a moment at Therion in the hopes that maybe he could help here. He was a horrible liar, but Therion's secret wasn't his to tell. Zeph noticed and looked questioningly at the thief.

Therion sighed. "...there's some things we should talk about later. More privately." He locked eyes with Alfyn. There were quite a few things he hadn't talked about. "Our travels haven't been all smooth sailing."

 

After dinner the group split up, those staying at the inn left for their rooms and Zeph walked Nina home before meeting with Alfyn and Therion at Alfyn's home. They gathered around the table for the more serious discussion. Starting with Therion's condition, since he was so worried over the scars.

Zeph sighed, "oh, Alf. Still as selfless as ever. But- it's kinda hard to believe. I mean," he turned to Therion, "you don't look like any sort of monster?"

Therion pulled down his scarf. "Preferably people don't notice. Don't want to go around attracting unwanted attention. Well, more than we already have."

The other apothecary's eyes went wide, looking between Therion and the marks on Alfyn's neck. "You're really not kidding. Alf..." he paused, thinking, his cheeks dusted a light pink. "...you blushed pretty hard when I noticed those scars earlier."

"W-well, ah-" Alfyn's voice trailed off.

Zeph held up a hand, "say no more. Heh, I know we tell each other a lot, but I think I'll live without knowing the details of your sex life."

Alfyn breathed out a relieved sigh, slouching onto the table. "Alright, yeah, there's some other stuff I gotta tell ya anyway..." his expression shifted to a frown. Zeph waited patiently for him to continue. When he spoke again his voice was quiet. "I've...I've killed people, Zeph."

"You..." it was apparent Zeph didn't believe it, not right away. "Alf, what do you mean? I know you, you wouldn't-"

Therion chimed in, "he didn't have much of a choice. Some of the people we've encountered. Well, they really wanted us dead." He frowned, reaching out to rest a hand on Alfyn's shoulder. Zeph was right, the guy wasn't cut out to be a killer. Each death by his hands weighed on him.

"..." Zeph reached out, resting a hand on Alfyn's other shoulder. "Alf...what happened?"

"It...started in Quarrycrest. People there had been goin' missin'..." Alfyn rambled on. The necromancer, Miguel, Yvon, the thieves from Wellspring. Decisions made in the heat of the moment, split seconds with lives on both sides on the line.

"...we managed to save one of them. Gareth. He's part of the Wellspring guard now. But, the others, they didn't get second chances...but at th' same time. I keep thinkin' about what that older apothecary told me. Would those second chances have been worth it? What if I run into someone like Miguel again?" Alfyn stared down at the table, tracing the wood grain. "My mind goes in circles, thinkin' about it all. Damned if I ain't doin' th' best I can, but, not sure all my choices have been good ones."

Zeph listened carefully, worried and concerned, when Alfyn was done there was a pause as he thought. "You've always been a gentle soul, Alf. Can't say I can even start to understand everything you've been through these past couple months... but. You know what? I've always admired your ideals. I can't say that I'm surprised, that the world outside our sleepy little villiage has worn you down, but... when you first set out, I had a feeling that when all was said and done, nothing would break your morals."

Alfyn sniffled and Zeph scooted closer, draping his arm over Alfyn's shoulder. "There aren't any easy answers. But, I'm confident whatever answer you do find will be a good one. And, if you do need a break from being on the road, don't forget everyone here will happily welcome you back. Open arms."

Alfyn cracked a small smile, wiping away his tears. "Shucks, I'm gonna start bawlin' at this rate. Think I'm gonna keep travelin'- plenty of folks out there in need of an apothecary after all."

"I better head home, Nina will give me grief if I'm out too late." He pat Alfyn on the back. "You and your new friends take care on the road, now."

Therion watched, tugging up his scarf to hide a small smile. The connection between them was strong, part of him was happy- seeing Alfyn reconnect with his best friend. Alfyn, he was lucky, growing up with somebody so supportive. "We'll keep him safe."

 

Alfyn took a seat on the edge of his bed, dressed down in just his shirt and pants for sleep. "Heh, been a while since I last slept in my own bed!" He sat back on his hands, watching as Therion finished getting ready.

"Been a while since I slept in your bed, too." He smirked to himself, granted he wasn't exactly thrilled to be there at the time. How things change. He set his belt on the table, next to his mantel and scarf. "It's a shame you dunked me in the river, earlier. Could still be in the dancer outfit now. Prim taught me some new moves, thought I might show you..."

Alfyn began to blush, rubbing the back of his neck, "aw, shucks that is a shame... you've been gettin' pretty good too."

"Hmm, well if you're going to stroke my ego..." Therion lifted his shirt over his head in one graceful movement, dropping it to the side. "Sit back and get comfortable, I think you're going to like this one."

The first dance Primrose had taught him, the lion dance, was slow. It was about strength and power, the movements harsh and forceful. The new dance he had learned was different in every way. The Peacock Strut was a more sultry dance, the movements ebbed and flowed smoothly into each other. It was ethereal to witness, Primrose had said it was designed to inspire the spirit. The core of magical abilities.

He did change things up a bit, he stepped closer and closer as he danced. When he came to a stop he was looming over Alfyn, almost straddling his lap with his hands on his shoulders, a wicked grin plastered across his face. (Alfyn's heart was racing, it called to him. He could go for a bite.)

Alfyn met him halfway for a kiss, his arms reaching to wrap around him and pull him closer. Therion melted into the embrace, settling into Alfyn's lap and grinding their hips together. Alfyn hummed, parting briefly as he gasped for breath. "That was, stunning." He leaned back in, hands wandering Therion's body. They moved together, pressing into each other's touches, swallowing each other's soft moans.

Therion pulled off Alfyn's shirt, diving in to press kisses to his shoulder and neck. "You're stunning." He nibbled lightly, his hands moving down to untie their laces. He felt Alfyn's hands moving lower as well, coming to a rest at his hips.

Alfyn let out a small laugh, tilting his head to give Therion better access. "Nah, I'm a scruffy, backwoods hobo, remember?"

Therion snorted out a laugh. "And I'm a street rat, I'd say we match up nicely." He tugged on Alfyn's pants, lifting up his hips as Alfyn pulled his down as well.

"Hmm, more a cat than a rat. If ya ask me." Aflyn reached to the side, pulling up his satchel and digging through it with one hand. Therion heard him popping open the bottle of oil as he continued to nibble and kiss at his neck. "I mean, I can make ya _purr..._ " Alfyn's hands returned to his hips, one sliding back to tease at his entrance with slicked fingers.

Therion whined and bit into Alfyn's shoulder as he began stretching him out. He kissed and licked at the wound as he reached one of his hands down, pressing the two of them together in his grip. A loud purr rumbled through his body as the two of them moved together with slow, teasing motions.

Alfyn pulled back his hand, moving instead to adjust Therion's hips. Therion wrapped his arms around Alfyn's neck, shuddering in anticipation when he felt the head of Alfyn's cock prodding against him. He wiggled his hips in the apothecary's grip, wanting to press down.

Alfyn whispered in his ear. "You ready?"

Therion whined again, this had to be revenge for all those times Therion had teased him. He tightened his grip, squirming more in his grip. "Alfyn- please- just-"

He felt a kiss press to the side of his head as he was carefully guided down. Their moans and panting breaths mingled together in the room. Therion bent his head down, pressing his face over Alfyn's heart. He couldn't get enough of the feeling of his pulse. Like this, clinging together, Alfyn deep inside him, it drove him crazier than anything else. (Not that there wasn't another sort of gratification in having the apothecary at his mercy, watching him fall apart beneath him.)

 

That night old memories haunted his mind. It felt strange, not like a typical dream. He saw himself, lurking outside an open door, voices- his parents- talking in nervous tones. "...every month, like clockwork, I know they're murderers but to burn them alive. Publicly..." "Not just murderers anymore, old Stephen's only crime was trying to keep that kid of his fed. Got caught stealing food at the market..." "I can't stand it- but Therion's too young for us to take him on the road. If a monster got him..."

He heard something breathing next to him and turned, Craving was standing with him. Large ears folded back, head down, if he had to guess he would say the demon looked worried. Concerned. The scene fizzled away, replaced by another memory, his mother scolding him for taking something from another kid.

He had forgotten what she had looked like.

Therion looked between the scene and Craving "These are...did you dig around in my head?" Craving nodded. Great. One more thing he could do.

Craving whined and nudged him. ( _Place. Rotten River. Not safe._ )

"These memories are from years ago. You...probably don't understand time, but, things generally change..." The scene shifted again, he was a little older. Is face was tear-streaked, horrified. The crackle of fire, the smoke, that unmistakable smell of burning bodies. Therion refused to turn around. "...it scares you?"

Craving stared at him, blinked, then spread out his wings. Therion took a step back and found the wings wrapping around him, pulling him close to Craving's furry body. It was, surprisingly, soft. Similar to Linde- though not as dense. ( _Want keep Sneaky man safe._ )

"...I want to go. I'm scared too, but, I want to help. Any way I can."


	30. Moths to a Flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pet sitting got delayed so I wrote instead!
> 
> ...buckle in, we're heading to Riverford.

They set out bright and early the following morning, though not before Alfyn said his farewells to Zeph and Nina. With every day they marched further into the region, the path following the river. Anxiety loomed at the back of Therion's mind over the return to his hometown. It was made worse by the memories Craving had dug up, things that he hadn't wanted to remember.

They had to be getting close now, maybe one more day of travel. The river grew murkier, a certain rankness lingered in the air. Therion stared at the flickering flames of the campfire, the sounds of his companions fading into the background. He had forgotten for a long time: it had not been long after he found himself on the streets, making his way into the town square. Curious about a gathered crowd. He had recognized one of the faces, a beggar he had seen many times on the streets, bound to a wooden pole. Straw piled up, smoke and flames creeping upwards.

He jolted at the feeling of a hand on his shoulder. The others were all looking his way with concerned expressions.

Alfyn squeezed his shoulder lightly. "Sorry, you weren't respondin'- you holdin' up alright?"

"I'm-" Therion stopped himself, tugging at his scarf. He wasn't fine, it was obvious he wasn't fine, enough that it was clear to everyone here. He sighed, shaking his head. "It, turns out Craving can go through my memories..." He pushed a hand through his bangs, rubbing his temple.

Cyrus made an intrigued sound and moved to pull out his book. "Interesting, was this a recent discovery? How could you tell?"

Therion groaned, leaning back where he was met with Alfyn's arm. Guiding him to lean against the apothecary's shoulder. "It was. Stuff from my childhood. Things I didn't remember..." his eyes lingered on the fire again.

Alfyn's arm over his shoulder squeezed him a little tighter. "About Riverford?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Remembered...burnings." Therion watched as one of the logs burned through, falling and sending a wave of embers up into the air over the campfire.

A somber quiet fell over the group, the crackling and pops of the fire seemed to grow louder.

"They, burned the bodies of the dead, during the Great Pestilence. The illness claimed his family..." Cyrus offered to the other members of the group. It was without his usual excitement, he closed the notebook and tucked it back into his pack. "I suppose that would explain why you have been staring at the fire so...morosely."

Well, there had been that too. But that wasn't the burning Therion had remembered. He allowed himself to settle in against Alfyn, trying to take comfort in the contact. Focus on the sound of his pulse instead of the crackle of flames. (If he told them the truth, would they try to stop him? He wanted to be there for them.) "...I'll be fine. I'm not the only one here with some tragic backstory." H'aanit had told the story a few times, of the pair of rings she wore as a memento around her neck. Primrose lost her father and was trying to avenge him. Hell, even Ophilia had her share of hardship. He didn't know the full story, but she had mentioned that Lianna and her father had been her adoptive family. Generally, for orphans, the story wasn't good.

"Yes, but, the suffering of others doesn't diminish your own." Ophilia stood and took up the space on the other side of Therion. "If you wish to talk about it, we are here to listen."

Therion looked over at the cleric, her expression soft. A reassuring smile mixed with a hint of sadness. "I'll keep that in mind." Maybe he would take up the offer some day, but not today.

 

Riverford was a large city, guarded by tall walls around its perimeter. A bridge extended over the murky river to the city gates. There was a line, other travelers awaiting entry as hardened guards oversaw the process. Therion tucked his shackled arm under his mantel as they drew closer. If things were as bad as they were when he was a kid, then he would be in trouble the moment the shackle was spotted.

The guard eyed their large group, eyes lingering on each of them in turn. A man in front of them turned, chatting with Olberic- or rather, warning the man. Therion had been right in advising them to have leaves ready to bribe the guard. It sounded like they had even gotten worse, not above framing travelers in order to imprison them.

Olberic was the first of their group to the front of the line. He pressed his bride into the guard's hand, and all looked to be fine. Until the warrior inquired with the guard over where he might find a man by the name of Werner. _Real subtle_.

Therion heard the guard's heart jump at the mention of the name, "W-what business could ye possibly have with his Lordship?" The man shook his head, eyeing Olberic's sword.

Cyrus chimed in, because of course he would. "Lordship? Is Werner the residing lord of this town?"

The guard sighed, "if ye didn't know that much. Ye lot best keep yer heads down if ye know what's good for ye." He motioned Olberic along and grabbed Cyrus' pack for inspection. The man went silent and pulled out the bloodstained notebook first, "what th' hells?" The second item he pulled out was the abridged version of From the Far Reaches of Hell. The guard gave Cyrus a look. "Alright fancy pants, gonna have t' ask you a few questions." He motioned over a couple other guards on standby.

Therion dragged his free hand over his face as Cyrus stammered, clearly confused by the situation. To make matters worse he had apparently forgotten about the fact he was supposed to bribe the guard as he instead tried to ask what the problem was and explain that necromancy and blood magic wasn't inherently evil. Which didn't seem to be doing him any favors.

Olberic tapped the guard on the shoulder, handing over more leaves. "I can vouch for this man, he is with me."

The guard pocketed the leaves, but still scrutinized the books and Cyrus. "...see he doesn't cause more trouble, then."

The rest of them managed to get in without further incident, though it was clear Tressa and H'aanit were both holding back anger at having to bribe the guard at all.

"...what is this?" Olberic's tone was disturbed. As the rest of them made their way into the town square it became apparent why. At the center of the plaza was prepared four poles, guardsmen worked piling up sticks and straw at the base.

Therion recognized it. He shrunk back, sinking into his scarf, as the rest of the group slowly comprehended the scene.

"...never seen a pyre before? You folks must be new to town then." A local approached them, frowning at the gathered kindling. "It's for his Lordship's burnin'. Once a month four poor souls get burned alive for their sins... ya picked a terrible time t' visit. Best ya finish whatever business ya got in town and leave, quick as ya can."

The man left, leaving the group to take in this new information.

"They- that no-good-" Therion looked over to see Alfyn was shaking, fists clenched around the strap of his satchel. "How could they throw people's lives away like this? Like, like they ain't nothin' but firewood?!" He was all but shouting in his anger, and the guard glanced their way. A couple broke away from the group setting up and started in their direction.

"Alfyn-" Therion tapped the apothecary to try and snap him out of it.

The guard hollered at them. "Oi, no loiterin'! Show ain't til sundown, be on yer way!"

Therion looped his arm around Alfyn's elbow, tugging at him to follow as the rest of the group started to leave, heading deeper into town.

Olberic fell into step next to them. "...you know, as a knight I have cut down many a man's life without a second thought." He looked over at the apothecary, and Therion cursed how difficult the man's expression was to read.

Alfyn was quiet, still fuming, eyes shimmering with tears. "...yeah, but, it ain't th' same. We're not talkin' about a battlefield, and..." tears spilled over, rolling down Alfyn's face.

"Tis not a fairen fight, and the method of death is without mercy." There was an edge of anger and disgust in H'aanit's voice. "Tis a horrid thing, to drawen out their suffering."

"Alright, so what's the plan here." Therion decided to change the subject, the local they met was right, best they finish up their business fast. "The guy Olberic is looking for is in charge of town, something tells me we aren't going to get in to see him by asking nicely."

"I suppose we should converse with the locals for more information... with such a tyrant in a seat of power perhaps-"

Therion shushed Cyrus, glancing around. "I don't know if you noticed, but talk like that around here is going to attract unwanted attention." He shook his head. "...if we're going to be gathering information we should split up into smaller groups. They've already been eyeing us especially after that near fiasco at the gate."

Olberic nodded. "...you are familiar with the nature of this place. I shall keep an eye on Cyrus."

"I'll head to the market, see what the other merchants and the shopkeepers have to say. Who's with me?" Tressa glanced around the group.

H'aanit and Linde stepped forward. "Aye, we shall watchen thine back. Mayhaps some fellow huntsmen wille be there as well."

"A good dance can loosen lips, along with drink..." Primrose considered the others. "Therion, you know a thing or too about listening."

"That I do." With a worried look at Alfyn, Therion stepped forward. He looked between the remaining members of the group. "You two should have no trouble finding people who want your help here. Just watch what you say on the street."

Alfyn nodded, glancing over at the river that flowed through town. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. "Yeah- when we gonna meet back up?"

"When we find what we're looking for- or if something happens. We all stand out, shouldn't be too hard to find each other again."

 

While Primrose tried to talk the bartender into allowing her to put on a show, Therion tucked himself away in an out of the way corner. Most of the people in here looked to be guardsmen. He tucked into his drink, listening carefully to the drunken murmurs.

A few things became apparent. The first he already knew from the guard at the gates: even Werner's own men were terrified of him. It was apparent in the hushed tones they spoke of him in, the urgently whispered warnings to watch their words when speaking of the man. Second: there was talk of rebels in town. Specifically, of how slippery and hard to catch they were. Therion filed that bit of information away. Third: they didn't have a full set of victims for the burning tonight. From the sound of their voices, Werner would not approve. They were desperate to fill in the empty slots.

Primrose stepped away from the bar, from her frown Therion had a feeling the barkeeper had refused her request. He stood to leave, at least he had gotten some information from their trip here. As he wove through the tables towards the exit a hand gripped his arm, yanking his shackled wrist into view.

The drunken guardsman stood, struggling with Therion to lift his wrist into the air. "Ha! Wouldya lookit this, boys!" The man's words were slurred, but his grip was bruising.

Therion locked eyes with Primrose as the other guardsmen began to stand, just waiting for him to try and make an escape. He looked between her and the door, motioning slightly with her head- run. Don't let on she was with him. "Look, this is all just a misunderstanding-" He tried to tug his wrist free, but soon found more hands on him.

"Fool's bangle says otherwise." Therion's arms were wrenched behind his back. He looked over- Primrose was hesitating. Damn it. "Really are a fool t' show yer face in these parts."

Primrose strode towards the gathered group with purpose, Therion wanted to scream. "Excuse me, gentlemen. Would you mind telling me why you are apprehending my companion?"

Therion hissed under his breath at her. " _Prim! Get out of here, I'll be fine!_ " He flinched as one of the guards slapped him, backhanded, across the face with a shout for him to be quiet.

"Ye with this scoundrel? Looks like we got two more for the fire, boys!" The guard were circling in.

Primrose held up a hand, "allow me to explain- if you please." She was putting on a good act of being calm, even if Therion could hear her heart racing. "The two of us are part of an acting troupe. My friend here is a bit of a method actor- the shackle is but a part of his costume."

The guardsman holding Therion's wrists snorted. "Well, that's too damn bad. Ye can run back t' the rest of yer little troupe and let 'em know you're friend here's gonna give 'is final performance t'night." The man shoved Therion out the door alongside a couple other guards, he didn't hear the rest of whatever argument Primrose had prepared.

 

Therion had found himself in the Riverford gaol before, but in the past ten years it seemed they had pushed up security. Therion was given a full pat down, they stripped him of his mantel, scarf, weapons, belt and boots. They were uncomfortably thorough, finding even his most well hidden lock picks.

He was lead to a cell, arms still held tight behind his back. He squirmed, playing up his struggling. He could hear the key ring jingling at the guard's belt, if he could just reach a little further- but Aeber did not smile on him today. Therion was shoved roughly into the cell, barely having time to catch himself before his face hit the stone ground. His mind was racing- he only had until sundown to initiate his jailbreak. He couldn't even tell how much time he had left- there were no windows to the outside here.

Craving didn't like this. Being dragged away, locked up, the sheer panic and urge to lash out at the guard made thinking up a plan all the harder. Therion growled and rubbed at his temples- if Craving wanted to care about their well being, fine, but this wasn't a situation they could fight their way out of and the screaming in the back of his mind wasn't going to help.

Therion muttered under his breath. "This is fine, we'll be fine, just. Let me see what I can find." Great, talking to himself. It was fortunate he wasn't sharing his cell with anyone.

He scrutinized the cell. The piles of straw, the cracks in the stone, the shoddy excuse for a bed. In inspecting the bed frame he smirked to himself, glanced around for the guard, then set to breaking it as quietly as he could. He managed to retrieve a long, skinny, slightly bent nail and some wire. It was far from ideal, but it was something.

The clacking of metal, from his shackle and his fiddling with the cell lock, drew the attention of whoever was in the next cell over. "...guard's gonna beat ya, they catch ya doin' that."

Therion snorted. "Don't care. They're going to do worse at sundown."

"It's today? Damn..." The stranger went quiet for a moment. "We might as well be sayin' our prayers, friend. Less ya got friends in high places or a lot of leaves, there's no chance of escapin' the flames. What do ya plan t' do if ya get out? Only one way outta town, guard has it on lockdown."

"One way out if you want to keep dry." Therion frowned, pulling back the wire and bending it into a more useful shape. "Let me focus, with any luck we can all get out of here."

 

Alfyn and Ophilia filtered into the small house. Olberic and Cyrus, it would seem, had found the lead they needed. A resistance group, and they needed all the help they could get. The leader greeted them as they entered.

"An apothecary, eh? Gods know Riverford could use more folks like you-" he turned and smiled at Ophilia as well. "Both of ya. Afraid folks here don't have much faith left."

"It's good to meet ya- Harald, was it?" Alfyn looked around the room. Everyone else was already here- except... "...say, where's Therion?"

Primrose and Tressa shared a look, they seemed...down. In fact, looking around, there was an air of unease in the room. "...the guard caught wind of his bangle. We tried to see if we could get him back, pay his bail, but..." her eyes trailed to the floor.

"They're asking for more than anyone could even hope to afford! It's not right- they've been locking up merchants who don't bribe the guard too. Therion didn't even do anything here! The only reason they locked him up at all was his fool's bangle!" Tressa was fuming, hugging herself while she held back tears.

Harald shook his head, "that's how things have been here for the past twelve years. Started with murderers, brigands, but the crimes that sent folks to the pyre got more and more petty. Pickpockets, drunkards, those living on the streets... until just saying the wrong thing about those in power was enough." He motioned everyone forward around the map that had been laid out on the table, marked with pins and tokens. "Four more, every month, but no more."

Harald looked up from the map, locking eyes with Alfyn. The apothecary had not moved since he walked in, his expression blank as he tried to process all the new information rolling in. "If all goes according to plan, nobody will be burned tonight."

Alfyn nodded, steadying himself with a deep breath. "Alright." He stepped up with the others. "What do we gotta do?"

 

There was a small click and Therion smiled to himself, victory. He pushed the cell door open carefully, as silently as he could. "Hang tight- I'm getting the keys." Or his lock picks, whichever he found first really. There was no response from the other prisoner- he wouldn't be surprised if the guy didn't think he would actually come back.

Adrenaline pulsed through his body as he ducked through the halls, avoiding guards and trying to find his target. A good old fashion jail break, only it wasn't going to just be him breaking out. Nobody deserved the fate waiting for those imprisoned here. Damn, he really had gone soft.

Darius had always called him weak, for caring.

Screw him.

He found his way to the room where he had been stripped down. There was a chest- likely where they kept what the confiscated from prisoners. But it was too exposed. There were several guards in the room, he eyed the key ring on the one nearest his location.

He might be hellbound, but if Aeber could throw him a bone here, that would be great.

The other prisoner looked up, eyes wide, when he returned. Therion held a finger to his lips, brandishing the keys.

There were two other people imprisoned in separate cells, Therion lead the way trying to get them all out. It must have been close to sundown, because there was a commotion among the guards. They were swarming, angrily shouting over escaped prisoners. Angry, and scared. (Their superiors would be angry, for sure, but was it enough to send them to the flames in their stead? ...as bad as this town had gotten, it probably would be.)

It was a tricky situation, and it wasn't long until one of the less stealthy members of the group got them noticed. The guard shouted and soon had them surrounded. ( _Cornered_ \- Craving was bristling. Snarling.)

"Remember t' take 'em alive, less ye want t' take their place!" The guard moved in, Therion and the other prisoners found themselves pressing their backs together. They brandished their fists, ready to not go down without a fight.

Well, they didn't have anything to lose at this point, now did they? Therion held out his hand, shouting an incantation. Flames burst forth from below one of the guard's feet, the man shouted and stumbled back, patting at the flames on his clothing. He wasn't a powerful magic user, but without proper weapons he would have to make do. He wielded the nail in one hand, striking with his bangle with the other. The guard quickly focused their attention on him, punching and grappling.

An arm wrapped around him from behind, lifting him from the ground and choking him. He had lost the nail somewhere in the struggle, he couldn't get enough air to speak. He swung his shackled wrist back, aiming for his captor, but someone caught his wrist. He clawed at the armored arm with his other hand, kicked out with his feet.

It had been a losing fight from the start. Only delaying the inevitable.

Therion was gagged to prevent him from casting any more spells, the guard then proceeded to drag him and the other prisoners out to the town square. It was dark, the area lit by street lamps and a single, burning torch held aloft by a man by the pyre.

He kept struggling as he was tied to one of the poles, it earned him a strong punch to the face. There was the unsettling pain of a tooth snapping loose, his own blood starting to fill his mouth.

It wasn't the first time Therion had faced possible death, but it felt like the most final.

When the last man was tied up Therion heard it, charging footfalls- a whole mob of people marching and shouting. They spilled into the square, weapons brandished. The guardsmen shouted- many had gathered to oversee the ceremony. Therion craned his neck, trying to get a look at what was going on. The man with the torch got struck by an arrow and fell.

The torch, still burning, fell to the ground and rolled towards the gathered kindling. The straw started to smolder.

More shouts came from a new front, the guards watching the gate. The guardsmen fell and Therion spotted a familiar, elegant swordsman. A man at his side moved in a blur, dipping and diving through the guard with practiced ease. He arrived at the pyre, grabbing and throwing the torch away before cutting away at the ropes with a knife. The swordsman rushed towards the main fight, vanishing from Therion's view.

He paused when he got to Therion, eyeing his cuts and bruises. "...you look like shit, man."

Gareth cut through the ropes and Therion yanked the gag from his mouth, spitting out his loose tooth into his palm. Gareth winced at the sight. "Didn't want to go down without a fight." He shoved the tooth into his trouser pocket. "Not that I'm complaining, but, what are you doing here?"

"With the chiefs defeated, the lizardmen aren't attacking the town anymore. And Erhardt had some concerns over Olberic going after Werner. Heard from Captain Bale about the resistance effort." He shrugged, shaking his head. "You people sure find a lot of trouble, don't you?"

The battle had shifted in heavy favor of the rebels with the damage Erhardt had done on his way through. People ran forward, checking on the other would-be pyre victims. Therion smirked, letting out a small laugh. "You have no idea. Would you believe me if I told you I've seen hell?"

Gareth shook his head. "I best catch up to Erhardt. Try not to die before we get back"

"Come on, since when have I been easy to kill?" He watched Gareth go, speeding his way through the crowd.


	31. Heroics and Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Riverford part two!
> 
> In which the question of the day is... Werner, why do you have a horse inside your house.

"Be careful!" Olberic forced his way in front of Cyrus, parrying the strike of Werner's blade. The force was enough that the seasoned warrior's arms visibly strained. The fight was down to him, Cyrus, H'aanit, and Primrose against Werner and his war steed. The others had stayed behind with Erhardt, occupying Werner's men and tending to the injured members of the resistance.

The battle was chaos, though they fought indoors they arrived to find Werner saddled up on his mount. What he was doing keeping it inside the manse was anybody's guess- but the beast gave the man an advantage as he fought. The force of his blows amplified by the horse's speed, the blows from above harder to avoid.

Olberic pulled Cyrus out of the way as Werner's mount reared up, kicking out and threatening to come down on them. H'aanit's arrows whistled through the air, the man was infuriatingly difficult to hit. Linde snarled, circling, looking for a proper opening to pounce. Hissing and swiping if Werner drew close to her or the huntress.

Cyrus caught his breath, reopening his spell tomb. The ferocity Werner fought with was nerve wracking. He heard Primrose shout out, hitting the man with a wave of dark magic. He nodded at Olberic, who still had a hand on his shoulder, thumbing through the pages until he arrived at the proper page. "Let's finish this, shall we?" He traced the magic circle on the page, muttering out the incantation- he felt the familiar crackle of energy gathering at his fingertips and in his palm. He took aim, the magical energy reaching its threshold and released. The spell crackled in the air before two large bolts of lighting struck near Werner.

His horse, startled, reared up again. As Werner tried to calm her H'aanit landed a hit on his shoulder. Linde rushed forward, pouncing and latching on the the horse's flank before the beast could fully calm. The resulting bucking sent the tyrant out of his saddle, crashing into the broken tiles below.

H'aanit whistled for Linde, rushing forward to calm the horse while Werner struggled back to his feet, his off hand hanging limp to his side. Olberic stepped forward, blade at the ready.

The warrior paused. "Before this ends, I want to know why." He adjusted his grip on his sword. "All those villages razed, lives broken and lost... why, Werner, did you conspire to ruin Hornburg?"

Werner sneered at him. "The Gate of Finis lied within its borders. Hornburg was simply in my way."

"The Gate of Finis?" Cyrus still held his spell tome opened and ready, just in case. "Just what is this gate you speak of, what made it worth destroying an entire kingdom to obtain? What could possibly-"

Cyrus trailed off as Werner locked eyes with him, his expression betraying a distant hint of... regret? Worry? Something too subtle for the scholar to quite put his finger on. "...I know when I am beaten. But I refuse to be done in by any of you sorry lot."

He moved before any of them could hope to stop him, stabbing his own sword into his chest.

 

Therion breathed a sigh of relief as he wrapped his scarf back around the lower half of his face. Some of the mod members had, thankfully, ventured into the gaol to retrieve his and the other prisoner's belongings. (Well, what remained of them for those imprisoned longer than he was.)

A hand found his shoulder, getting his attention. He recognized the man as the guy who had been in the cell next to him. He was slightly battered and bruised from their ordeal, but a thankful smile rested on his lips. "Say- wanted t' thank ya, for trying to get us out of there."

Therion looked away. "Why? Not like it worked."

"It coulda. Made us feel like we had a fightin' chance." The man let out a small laugh. "Sure it woulda been easy for ya t' just, save your own skin. But ya came back for us. Gave us hope. So, again- thanks."

"Don't mention in." Therion fiddled with his scarf. This wasn't something he was used to, he felt out of place. He didn't feel like he deserved it, really. "I've got things to do." He shrugged away from the man's hand, slinking his way into the crowd. He needed to find out where the others had gone.

He figured out where Erhardt and Gareth had run off to, and that was as good a place as any to start. A hidden passage near the river, down where trash accumulated. (The kind of place he would play in as a child, sorting through garbage by himself.) Therion slipped into the passage, sticking to the shadows out of habit.

The scent of blood hit him and his heart sank. Therion picked up his pace until he came into an open section of the disused canal.

It was clear a battle had been fought here. Arrows riddled the floor, countless people in civilian garb laid on the ground. Alive, but injured. On the other end of the space were fallen guardsmen.

"Here, Phili, this should help ya get your magic back up." Alfyn's voice was music to his ears, Therion quickly spotted him crouched among the fallen townspeople, passing a vial to Ophilia. Tressa, Erhardt, and Gareth were among them as well, helping to dress wounds and remove arrows.

Therion lingered back, wincing every time Ophilia cast a spell. He was out of the radius for the healing light to reach him, but he could still feel the power it gave off. Something like sunlight, stabbing at his skin.

Alfyn looked up as he treated his last patient, looking tired and weary, shirt and hands stained red. Therion smiled under his scarf when the apothecary spotted him. His expression lit up, among the chorus of heartbeats in the room he could pick out Alfyn's. Speeding up as he carefully stepped around his recovering patients before breaking into a run towards him.

"Therion!" He stumbled back as Alfyn collided with him, wrapping him in his arms and clinging tight. Therion felt his feet leave the ground, Alfyn's face pressing into the crook of his shoulder. "Gods- I'm so glad you're alright!"

He allowed himself to melt into the embrace, clinging back even once his feet were back on solid ground. "Could say the same to you. Home sweet _fucking_ home, hu?"

Alfyn leaned back, finally getting a good look at the state of Therion's face. He frowned, taking in the forming bruises and the dried blood around Therion's mouth.

"Hey, come on, don't give me that look." Therion did his best to smile reassuringly- showcasing the gap from his missing fang. "I'll be fine in a day or two, remember?"

"No matter how many times ya tell me that, I'm still not gonna like seeing ya get hurt." Alfyn leaned back in, "you've been through more than your fair share of pain." He closed the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Therion's lips.

Alfyn paused- when the taste of Therion's blood, dried on the thief's lips and lingering in his mouth, hit him he swore he heard...something. Loud purring, at the back of his mind. He pulled back and the sensation faded.

Therion watched Alfyn's expression shift, that was... strange. Did he have a problem with how bloody his mouth was? (He hadn't had a problem with it before, when the taste of Alfyn's own blood was what lingered in his mouth.) "Alfyn? What's wrong?"

The apothecary shook his head. "Sorry- just thought I heard somethin'."

Therion sighed, "you're overworked. Come on, what do you still need to do? The sooner we get done here the sooner you can get some proper sleep."

 

The next order of business involved getting the survivors of the underground skirmish out of the canals back to somewhere more secure and clean. A quick word back to the mob at the town square and they had more helpers and safe houses to set people up in. Halfway through another group ran to greet them- sharing with excitement that it was, at last, over. Werner had fallen.

The city was in a state of unrest for the next couple of days, those who had been faithful to Werner's method of rule driven from the city while those involved in the fight nursed their wounds. Alfyn and Ophilia had their hands full tending to the injured, but thankfully support came in from other citizens and traveling merchants to supply what would be needed to give people the needed medical care. Therion found himself among the number of helpers, brewing concoctions to ward off infection and cleaning wounds.

The events of the uprising became the talk of the town. People singing the praises of the Twin Blades of Hornburg coming to their aid. Not that the rest of the groups' efforts went unnoticed. There was admiration for Cyrus' spellwork and H'aanit's skill with the bow, those recovering from the underground skirmish recounted how Tressa blocked arrows with gusts of wind and Primrose with her dark magic. Alfyn and Ophilia were painted as angels of the battlefield- both healing and reassuring those who needed their aid.

The tale of the underground skirmish and the battle with Werner were not the only stories to circulate. Therion overheard recountings of the attempted jailbreak, and the shadow of a man who saved the last set of victims from the flames.

At the end of a long day Therion found a quiet corner of the tavern to hide in, nursing his drink. Alfyn was busy helping H'aanit treat the mare that was Werner's mount. Since Linde made the horse nervous (with good reason, it was her claw marks they had to treat), Therion was keeping an eye on her until H'aanit and Alfyn could come back. The leopard laid under his table, curled up at his feet.

He spotted a familiar purple headscarf enter the tavern. Their eyes met, and Therion lifted his free hand in a small wave. Gareth made his way over to the table, sliding in so his back was to the wall as well. A soft mrowr issued from under the table.

The bartender brought Gareth a mug of mead, which he graciously accepted. "Have to say, this all feels pretty surreal. Here we are, a couple thieves, being treated like we're some sort of heroes..."

Therion let out a small laugh. "Tell me about it." He leaned back in his chair, reaching down to scratch Linde behind the ears as she poked her face into his lap. "Guess I owe you a thanks, for saving me from becoming human firewood."

Gareth shrugged, taking a long draw from his mug. "Well, we both tried to kill each other, and now we've saved each other's asses. Guess that makes us even." He flinched when Linde poked her head into his lap as well, spilling some of his drink onto his hand. "Damn, I'm never gonna get used to that. Been stalked by snow leopards up north before, they're a fierce breed of monster." Linde chuffed, staring up at him.

"Yeah, sounds about right. I've seen her in battle." Therion pat his lap, bringing Linde's attention back onto him. "She's so laid back around us, it's almost easy to forget how dangerous she's capable of being. Seen her make quick work of monsters on the road. H'aanit says she's gotten pretty attached to all of us. Sees us as her friends."

Gareth hummed. "You could probably say the same of most people. Guess, if you think about it, we're not so different from monsters." He kept an eye on Linde as she purred, pressing her face into Therion's hand. "Dangerous, but...gentle to those we care about."

Therion nodded, "sounds like you've been thinking about some things."

"Yeah, yeah I have." The grip on his mug tightened, his voice dropped to a whisper. "...Darius is a right rat bastard."

Therion nodded again. "This is the place it all started. Darius and I both grew up here, in Riverford. Different sections of the city, didn't meet until we both wound up in the gaol."

Gareth frowned and took another sip of his drink. "Surprised you don't have much of a Riverlands accent." Therion shrugged, it was what it was. "No offense, but your hometown's a bit of-"

Therion finished the thought for him. "A shit hole? Yeah, I'm aware. Apparently it's all thanks to that tyrant that was in charge." Maybe in time Riverford would become someplace livable again. But, Therion was pretty sure he'd be happy to settle down anywhere else.

"Shit hole is right, gods if I go near the river again I swear I'm going to get sick from the smell." Gareth sighed, leaning onto the table. There was a long pause before he spoke up again. "...it's been hard. I'm angry. At him, at myself. If he ever finds out we're both still alive he'll see us dead. But I also... part of me misses him."

"...yeah. I get what you mean." Therion set his drink down, petting Linde with both hands as he talked. "He's got a way of...making your life revolve around him. Makes it feel like something's missing." He looked over, studying Gareth. The man was slouched over, burying his face in his scarf and hood. "You're better off without him. We both are."

"Keep tellin' myself that. Does it ever stick?"

"Eventually." The tavern door opened again, Linde turned and quickly wove through the tables and other patrons to greet H'aanit. "...turns out it helps to have support." Alfyn entered next, and Therion waved him over.

 

Three days after the fall of Werner a ceremony was held at the center of town. A vigil, remembering the many people lost to the flames. Flowers and wreaths piled high where they pyre once stood. Harald, the new lord of the town, gave a speech alongside Ophilia honoring the dead. Friends, family members, strangers, and travelers- countless souls left without graves. Harald spoke of plans for a monument, gathering what names they could of those lost.

Therion hung back as person after person stepped forward, adding flowers to the pile. Many wore somber expressions, tears in their eyes. He held a small sprig of wildflowers in hand, Alfyn had helped him find and gather them. It would be a lie to say he didn't feel a little uneasy. Harald had stopped by and talked with them all earlier, about the plans for the ceremony. He had let him know that those burned during the great pestilence were to be included on the list of names, as Werner had not allowed any of them proper grave markers.

He was one of the last people to step forward, placing his modest bundle of flowers at the base of the pile. Eleven years... he never did get the chance, to say a proper goodbye. Therion took a deep breath, a step back. (What could he possibly say? If they knew where his life would take him, what would they have thought?) "...sorry this took so long..." He turned away, tugging up on his scarf as he returned to the rest of his waiting companions.

  
Alfyn had an arm slung over his shoulder as they made their way back to the house that they had been staying in, courtesy of Harald and the other rebellion members. "How ya feelin', Therion? You've been quiet."

"...feels strange, saying goodbye after so many years." Therion shook his head. "Can't say I feel like I've done them proud. Seeing I've become a thief, and hellspawn."

"Aw, Ther, you're bein' too hard on yourself. You're a good guy, and you've helped a lot of folks here." Alfyn tugged him into a hug. "I bet they'd understand. You've been doin' your best after all."

"Heh, I guess. They'd have you to thank for being a good influence on me." Hell, they would probably be surprised he had a group of friends and was dating. As much as he wound up keeping to himself as a child. "They would have liked you."

"My ma woulda liked you too." Alfyn chuckled. "She'd have insisted on feedin' ya. She used t' make these really good pies- special occasions, or if the season was good that year for berries. Still have her old recipe book at home. If we ever stay in Clearbrook longer I'll have t' dig it out."

Outside the house Erhardt and Gareth tended to Werner's mare. Or rather, Gareth stood stiffly by holding some hay while Erhardt brushed the mare's coat. Gareth seemed to be trying to get by to where they had been putting feed for the horse, but didn't want to get too close.

"Ah, she hast taken a likeing to the two of thee." H'aanit smiled, approaching and petting the mare on the neck.

"As terrible as the man was to people, Werner always made sure his mounts were well cared for." Erhardt shook his head. "Did he...actually ride her in battle while inside the manor?"

"Thatten he did. Twas a curious sight." H'aanit continued to stroke the mare, looking up at her. "Wouldst one of thee wish to riden her? She wouldst enjoy the attention. Perhaps a quick venture outside of towne, letten her runneth on grass and soil instead of stone."

Gareth shook his head, freezing as the horse took another clump of hay from him. "I. Don't know how to ride."

"Perhaps we can add that to the list of things I could teach you." Erhardt put away the brush, patting the mare's side. "We'll have to work on your confidence. Horses can tell when you're nervous."

 

Therion ducked inside, snatching an apple from the bowl on the table before settling against the wall near a corner. Alfyn took a seat, pulling out supplies to work on building back up his stores of salves. Tressa sat across from him, pulling out her ledger as she started asking him what herbs and other ingredients he still needed to replenish. He didn't see Primrose, she must have stayed outside, and Ophilia was still at the town square last he saw. Olberic bid them all a good evening, heading upstairs to rest where their bedrolls had been set up.

Cyrus, meanwhile, bee-lined for where Therion was standing, the bloodstained notebook in hand. "Ah, Therion, I have been meaning to ask you- you lost a tooth, yes? Has it, by chance, grown back?"

Therion tossed his apple idly in his hand. "It's coming back in. No, I'm not going to show you." He took a bite of his apple. It was a shame the local ones weren't in season, the fruits on the table had come courtesy of some of the traveling merchants in town. He remembered something and dug into the pockets of his mantel, which one had he moved it to? "But, here, figured the town didn't need another sharp object lying around in the street." He pulled his hand out from his mantel, holding it out towards Cyrus.

The professor's eyes went wide when Therion dropped the fang into his hand. "Oh! The tooth you lost was an incisor, correct?" He daintily picked it up in his fingers, taking a closer look. "It looks as though the tip would be so delicate- ah!" Therion rolled his eyes as Cyrus pressed hard enough to the point to prick his finger.

"Real smart move there, Professor." Therion took another bite of his apple.

"Would you mind, if I hold on to this? I would like to do some comparisons of the structure, perhaps see if it shares any similarities in structure with other creatures. Perhaps there could be a way to test the comparative durability without destroying it outright..."

"Knock yourself out. If this keeps your fingers out of my mouth then I'm happy."


	32. Word of Advice

As gracious as the citizens of Riverford were, Therion was grateful to get on the road again and leave the place behind. Part of him wanted to laugh, Gareth had been right- it was strange that people were singing the graces of somebody like him. Especially when he, still, didn't feel like he had done anything to warrant it. Yet he overheard the story time and again (and like any good tale, the details got a little more skewed every time).

There wasn't any time to bask in the glory. They all had things which they still needed to do. Cyrus wanted to make his way to Duskbarrow, which was worrisome. He was chasing after the people who tried to kill him. Tressa wanted to see Victor's Hollow, since it was a place the first owner of her journal had written about visiting at length. H'aanit needed to go to Stillsnow to find that seer. Primrose spoke of needing to go to Noblecourt, which was going to involve splitting the group again.

And Therion, he had unfinished business too. He needed to track down Darius (Gareth had mentioned Northreach), but he should also report in at Bolderfall. Let Cordelia know he was still, well, alive. The black market had come and gone weeks ago now after all. Hopefully she wouldn't be too upset at him for the delay.

 

"Oh, Therion over here!" Alfyn waved him over as he spotted something off the path. He directed his attention to a cluster of tall plants as he approached, clusters of white and pale purple flowers danced in the light breeze. "Found a patch of thoroughwort!"

"Wait, you've talked about this one before..." Therion paused, digging into the numerous things Alfyn had told him about plants on the road. "The leaves are good for fevers, right?"

Alfyn smiled bright and nodded, then started to gather what he could safely take. "It's also called boneset, good for treating break-bone fever. And other illnesses too, it induces sweating and helps fevers break. Don't wanna use too much though- make your patients rush for the latrine if ya do. Which can dehydrate 'em."

Therion nodded, settling in a crouch next to Alfyn as he worked. He studied the structure of the plant carefully. Clusters of light colored flowers at the top, wrinkly diamond-shaped leaves that grew opposite of each other, joining together around the stem. "Sounds useful. What's 'bone-break fever'?"

Alfyn launched into an explanation of the symptoms, a bad fever that got its name from the ache that set in down to your very bones. Sounded unpleasant. Alfyn gave him a pat on the shoulder as he stood back up. "It's been really great, havin' ya helpin' out. I appreciate it!"

Therion ducked into his scarf, it just felt right. Helping Alfyn out when he didn't have anything else to do. But, it wasn't like he was apothecary material himself, not when that meant dealing with people.

Tressa's voice carried over from the path. "Hey, quit smoochin' so we can get a move on!"

Alfyn laughed next to him as they climbed back up the slope to the road. Therion glared at Tressa when they got back. "Again, we were collecting plants." He glanced back. "You _knew_ we were- you can see where we were from here."

Tressa snickered, readjusting her pack before running off to where the others were waiting and chatting. Therion grumbled and crossed his arms, what a pest.

"Guess we better get moving then." Alfyn slung an arm over Therion's shoulders, he leaned over to whisper in his ear. "Hey- bet ya can't catch me before we reach that big oak up ahead."

Therion eyed the apothecary, his grin was downright devilish. "You couldn't outrun me if-" he was interrupted when Alfyn leaned in and stole a kiss. He was off down the road laughing before Therion had time to process it.

Oh, it was on. Therion took off after him.

 

Therion muttered a soft incantation, sending a small ember into the gathered tinder for their campfire. The group was setting up for the evening, at this point setting up the campsite ran like clockwork. Everyone settling into various little jobs setting up the tents, clearing the area, gathering kindling, digging a latrine. Now that they were by a cleaner section of river Alfyn had offered to do some fishing, to add to whatever H'aanit brought back from her hunt. Olberic and Tressa accompanied him to the river. Ophilia and Primrose vanished into the brush to gather more material for the fire, to keep it burning through the night. Leaving Therion alone with Cyrus at the campsite.

Great. He watched Cyrus approach and braced himself for the usual questions.

But, the professor didn't have the notebook out this time. In fact, he looked a bit nervous. Therion raised an eyebrow at him as he settled down next to the fire.

"Pardon me, Therion, but I wish to ask you some things. For advice, if you would be so willing."

Therion stared at Cyrus, puzzled. "You want to ask me. For advice. About, what? Unless you're planning on getting into picking locks or sneaking around I'm not going to have much to offer."

"Ah, but your skills are numerous- and. Well." Cyrus sighed. "You're good at reading people, gauging their motives and emotional state..."

"Afraid that just comes with years of experience. Not really something I can teach." He stuck more small sticks into the growing heart of the fire.

Cyrus hummed, biting at his lip. "I was afraid of that... you sure there is not anything you could tell me? For instance, how do you tell that somebody is... interested in somebody. Romantically?"

"You're not telling me you actually don't know? Seriously you're in your thirties and you can't tell if-" Therion looked up from the fire and saw Cyrus was looking away from him, kicking at the dirt. "...I get it, sore subject?"

"Well, I..." The professor picked up one of the twigs, tracing lines into the dirt as he gathered his thoughts. "I have always been focused on my studies. For a time I told myself matters of the heart were just distractions, undue drama in a place of learning. But in time it became apparent that I just, wasn't interested as my peers were? I never experienced crushes or understood the draw to others based on looks alone. But, more recently, I..." Cyrus had gone red, Therion could hear his heartbeat picking up. He hadn't ever seen him flustered before. "I think I may have a crush on one of our travel companions? I thought perhaps it was just admiration but I keep finding myself thinking of them, and whenever we get close... but I'm not sure if he would be interested or if I might offend him."

"You want to get a read on Olberic." Therion shook his head. "Sorry. I can't tell what the guy's actually thinking half the time."

Footsteps approached from the forest and Cyrus stiffened. "Oh, Cyrus." Primrose was smiling as she set her bundle of firewood on the small pile. "You should try talking to the man directly, I think you'll be pleasantly surprised."

"I- ah- oh dear." Cyrus pressed a hand to his forehead. "I'm not sure I can. What if it ruins our friendship?"

"Sir Olberic is kind, I do not believe he would hold your feelings for him against you." Ophilia set down her branches on the pile as well. "Of course, the choice is yours to make."

Primrose and Ophilia took seats by the steadily growing campfire. Therion shrugged, "you're better off listening to them on this. Really, you should have gone to Prim from the start."

Primrose rolled her eyes. "You flatter me. You should have seen how fiercely Olberic was guarding Cyrus when we were fighting Werner. Think the poor man gained a few more gray hairs."

Cyrus went back to tracing patterns into the dirt. "I'm just, uncertain. I've never felt like this about someone before. Even so I wouldn't say there's a strong desire to, ah," he sighed, shaking his head. "I am, unsure of what to make of it all. It is something that has had me baffled for quite some time. I fear I may be some sort of outlier in that, matters of sex never really drew my interest. Would that get in the way of a prospective relationship? Would it be best I just, don't try at all?"

The campfire crackled, burning bright between them. Primrose was smiling softly at Cyrus, "dear, dear professor. You are going to think yourself sick. I would say the subject would be something the two of you would need to discuss. And don't allow Therion and Alfyn's relationship skew your judgement, sex is not a requirement for a loving union."

Therion huffed, adding one of the larger branches to the fire. There were things he was tempted to say- but Prim shot him a stern look and he held his tongue.

Ophilia settled a hand on Cyrus' shoulder. "You won't know how things might go unless you give him a chance."

Cyrus nodded slowly. "You both make fair points. I shall have to consider further. Thank you."

 

There was a slight nip to the air when the group at last made it to Bolderfall. A sign that summer was nearing its end. As everyone scattered into the town, getting set up at the inn, checking the shops, their typical chores and habits, Therion made his way to the great manor at the top of the cliffs.

Cordelia all but ran out of her front door to greet him, Heathcoat trailing a short distance behind. "Oh, Mister Therion! Thank the gods- we heard there had been an attack in Wellspring!"

Therion stepped back when she threatened to go in for a hug, tugging up on his scarf. At the very least the noble woman could take a hint, she backed up. "Yeah, things didn't go so well. I didn't get the stone- sorry it took so long to report in. Some things came up... but, I know who has the stone and where I might find him."

"I see." Cordelia smiled at him, what was that for? "You don't look as sad as you used to. I take it you have found other things on your journey?"

"I-" Therion frowned under his scarf. "What do you care?"

"I was concerned, the look you had reminded me of how I used to feel several years back."

Therion scoffed. "Don't give me that. What could some pampered highborn possibly know about the shit I've had to deal with? What could you possibly know about loss, betrayal, spending day to day trying to just survive?"

"More than you must think." Cordelia sighed, shaking her head. "After my parents died, I was heartbroken. But, countless people came to me- I thought they sought to help comfort me in my time of need." Her expression darkened. "But, no. All any of them cared about was money. Once they realized they couldn't get that anymore, they turned cold and cruel. I didn't want to trust anyone for a long time after that... I scarce left my bed many days. The effort to get up and face the day... it just wasn't there."

"..." Therion relented, tugging at his scarf again. He couldn't help but think of what Ophilia had told him on the way to Riverford. All forms of suffering are still suffering. It wasn't a competition. Hurt was hurt. "and you still got to a point where you could trust others again."

Cordelia nodded. "With Heathcoat's support, yes. I eventually did. And I'm glad to see you're on the way there, too."

"Alright, well, if we're done here I should get going." He took a step back, at which point Heathcoat cleared his throat.

"There is one matter left. We have tracked the location of the fourth stone." That got Therion's attention. "It is in the possession of a man called Darius. A brigand in control of a band of thieves, according to my sources they run their operations out of Northreach."

He has two of them? Just what is Darius' plan here, anyway? What could he want with these stones? "...well, that makes things easier. Two stones, one location."

 

Despite his warnings to avoid the lower half of town, that was exactly where he tracked Alfyn down to. Even though most of the people in Bolderfall's slums were wary and distrustful of strangers, in the few hours they had been in town the apothecary already had a crowd of grateful patients. Therion supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. Word of an apothecary giving good medical care at no cost would have spread fast.

Therion leaned- carefully- on a fence post and waited for the small crowd to clear. "Well, looks like you've been keeping busy."

Alfyn had his usual bright smile spread over his face, the satisfied grin he got when he helped people out. "Sure have, bit of a cough had been goin' around. Few folks with some injuries that needed lookin' at."

"You the only one who came down here?" Therion glanced around, he didn't see any of their other companions in the immediate vicinity.

"Ah- yeah. Sorry I know ya said t' be careful..." Alfyn rubbed the back of his neck. "Got talkin' to a guy earlier, about his concerns for the lower half of the city. He's got plans t' improve quality of life. Wants to build a school, make access t' clean water better. Heard from him about the illness goin' around, and that apothecaries don't stop by down there too much, and shucks I just wanted t' help however I could."

Therion sighed and shook his head. "You've been very busy, then. C'mon, we'll stop by the tavern before heading back up. My treat."

Alfyn and Therion settled together at the bar. It was surprising, but there was a man in elegant dress seated at one of the tables talking with one of the slum locals. The man and Alfyn exchanged waves and Therion shook his head. Who would have thought. Halfway into their drink and food the door opened again, admitting a couple travelers in mid conversation.

"...passed through Orewell, half th' town about is ill somethin' awful." "Gods- half the town? Always the outter territories that get hit worse." "I'd reconsider if you were plannin' on stoppin' there. Ain't worth the risk of gettin' sick." "Not gonna happen, got family out that way..."

Therion hummed, looking over at Alfyn. He had that look in his eye, concern, determination to set things right. "I take it you heard that."

Alfyn nodded. "Don't suppose you think we could talk the others into a detour?"

"Hmm." Therion knocked back the rest of his drink. "One way to find out. Let's go, medicine man, sounds like there's more people who need your help."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyrus struggles to grasp just what his sexuality is, and we set our sights on our next destination! 
> 
> *pats the professor* I might be projecting a bit here- but it felt fitting for his character. Some things get... a bit too complicated for easy labels.


	33. Temporary

Back at the inn the group had gathered around their map, spread out over a table. The plan had been to head north, up towards Victor's Hollow, however the plans to head for Orewell would be delaying that trip.

"From the sound of it, Orewell's pretty small and the illness has been spreadin' fast." Alfyn tapped where the town was marked on the map. Orewell was a frontier town, on the edge of wilderness. The untamed and dangerous Forest of Rubeh. "Anyone who goes is gonna risk gettin' sick too. It...I hate suggestin' this but it might be best only a small group go."

Tressa hummed, "well, if there's a lot of sick folks you're gonna need ingredients while you're there. I can help haggle prices and keep you stocked up."

Therion was leaning back, fiddling with his knife. "You can count me in too. Don't think it's a risk for me... haven't gotten sick at all since..." He glanced around the common room, there were a few other travelers lingering around tending to their own business.

"It'll be good t' have ya!" Alfyn smiled at him. "It'll be a good chance for ya t' work on your concoctions- always good to have another set of hands."

Primrose leaned over the map. "I suppose the other question we need ask is, where shall the rest of us be going?" She paused, thinking. "We do know that the three of you cannot set foot back in Noblecourt."

"Yeah... Cyrus too." Therion shook his head. "Things could have calmed down by now, or we're on the guard's wanted list. Either way I don't want to risk running into that crazy mage again."

Cyrus chimed in. "Well I have been meaning to make a visit to Duskbarrow. Perhaps I'll make my way there when we-"

Olberic cut him off. "No. Did the people meeting there not conspire your death? It is not safe to venture to such a place alone."

"Primrose huntens another crow- she shall need allies at her side." Linde mrowed an agreement from under the table. "If we splitten into two equal groups, mayhaps that wouldst be for the best. Safety in greater numbers."

"We're not going into a war zone or something. Alfyn wants to help with an epidemic." Granted, their group did have a way of getting into trouble. Therion put away his dagger and sat up. "If we did an even split, that would leave the professor with us. And he's not the best at dealing with illness." He had seen in back in Riverford. He could handle blood and injuries fine, but the man couldn't handle coughing or retching.

The debate carried on and they, eventually, came up with an agreement. They would part into three groups. Primrose, H'aanit, and Ophilia would make their way for Nobelcourt. Tressa, instead of going to Orewell, would be going with Cyrus and Olberic to Victor's Hollow. It would be a good chance to start building up funds for the group again. Alfyn and Therion would make their way to Orewell to help with the epidemic. Once everyone was done with their respective tasks they would regroup in Victor's Hollow in a few weeks time.

 

Therion didn't want to set camp in the Cliftlands. The arid landscape was scarce in resources for food, water, kindling- not to mention the hazards from the local monsters and landscape. Some of the paths grew exceptionally narrow, especially the further out they traveled. Being near the cliffs made Therion anxious, if he made the mistake of looking down the feeling of vertigo was overwhelming.

Night was approaching, he and Alfyn had set out from Quarrycrest just that morning. Even with the shortcuts Therion knew, it was going to be another day before they reached Orewell.

Alfyn looked over at him, concerned. "Somethin' wrong, Ther?"

"Running out of daylight." Therion took in their surroundings, with the number of airborne monsters camping out in the open wasn't safe. They needed to find a stable shelter. "Nights out here can get pretty rough."

Alfyn hummed. "We could try just stoppin' for a quick break, eat a lil somethin', and keep goin'?"

Therion shook his head. "Bad idea. That's how people walk off of cliffs. Besides we're going to need our rest to deal with the monsters out here."

They were able to find a small outcrop of stone with enough space below for them to seek shelter for the night. It looked stable enough that they wouldn't be in danger of being crushed in their sleep, and it meant there would be fewer openings to watch for monsters in the night.

The night grew cold in the absence of a fire. Therion shivered, tugging his mantel tighter around him. He was getting ready to take the first watch. It was a clear night, faint moonlight lit the landscape.

Alfyn settled next to him, draping a blanket over both of their shoulders. Therion leaned into the welcome warmth. "It's pretty quiet out here, isn't it?"

As if on cue, the distant laughter-like call of the cliftland hyenas sounded. Therion nodded anyway. "Quiet without everyone else around, yeah."

They sat in silence for a time, listening to the sounds of the local wildlife. (And, in Therion's case, the steady beat of Alfyn's pulse.)

"We've come a long way, haven't we?" Alfyn shifted ever so slightly, draping an arm around Therion's shoulders, hugging him against him. "Feel like the others, they got a pretty good idea of where they stand on things..."

Therion made a small sound to indicate he was listening, nestling against Alfyn's shoulder. "You've got some pretty strong morals yourself, you know."

"I guess. I told ya the reason I wanted to set out on this journey, right?" Therion nodded, Alfyn continued. "To help others and ask nothing in return, his ideal is what I strive for. It feels unreachable at times."

"You've been helping people left and right in every city and town we've stopped in. They were singing your graces in Riverford." He paused, considering. "You're a good guy, Alfyn. I bet many of the people you've helped consider you some sort of gods-sent angel."

Alfyn chuckled, "shucks, Theri, you're gonna set the ants on me going on like that!" He scratched at the side of his face with his free hand.

A small smile tugged at Therion's lips, but a sad thought lingered at the back of his mind. When all was said and done, the two of them were very different people. Different people, with different paths set for them when life was said and done.

If Therion was even mortal anymore to begin with.

"Speakin' of Riverford... yeah. I'm glad we were able to help out there. Of all the places we've been... shucks I can't imagine what growin' up in a place like that musta been like." Alfyn gave Therion a squeeze.

"It. Wasn't great." Therion sighed. "...thing I remember most clearly was when my parents got sick. During the Pestilence..."

Alfyn made a concerned sound, then waited to see if he continued.

Therion pressed on, keeping his focus on the dark landscape. "Started with my father, he had this horrible cough. Remember my mom making him soup and he couldn't hold on to the bowl. Shattered on the floor. Eventually he started coughing up blood, by then it looked like he was getting covered in a bad bruise. When my mom got sick too I searched the town over for somebody to help..." He trailed off, rubbing his eyes. Was he crying? "In the end the guard quarantined our home. I couldn't go back, and nobody wanted to take me in..."

Alfyn brought his other arm around him, pulling Therion against his chest. Therion's mind was screaming at him that he needed to get himself under control- crying wasn't safe. It was a sign of weakness. If anyone saw it only invited an attack- (that was what Darius had taught him. The people of Riverford taught him that at best, people wouldn't care.)

Alfyn rubbed soft circles into his back and Therion drew in a shaky breath. "It's alright- I've got ya. My ma always told me, was better t' just let it all out and cry if ya had to. Keepin' it all bottled up just makes it hurt worse."

Therion sobbed, pressing his face into Alfyn's chest. He should be over this by now. It happened over a decade ago. (It still hurt. Talking about it... he never talked about it with anyone before.) Another sob followed, his tears soaked into Alfyn's shirt.

 

At some point Therion must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew he found himself back in Craving's lair. What could he possibly want this time? He didn't see the creature right away.

A huff of breath on the back was his only warning before he was, once again wrapped in those large wings. "Craving? What-" Therion froze as a large, rough tongue dragged across the back of his head. The motion was repeated, Therion wiggled his arms free and tried to push Craving's massive head away from him. "No. Stop, what the fuck are you doing?" Turning to face him was a mistake, the rough tongue dragged up his face, sweeping up his bangs. He shoved away harder, voice getting more firm. " **Stop**."

( _Sneaky man feel bad. Help feel better._ ) Craving's ears drooped back. ( _No like?_ )

"No, I don't like it." Therion grimaced as he moved his bangs back over his face. "Just. No licking."

Craving huffed. ( _...Grass man like licking._ )

"That's- different. Besides, I'm not Alfyn and Alfyn isn't here." Therion looked away, looking into Craving's eyes was unnerving. He felt like they looked through him.

Craving pressed his head forward again, chirping and rubbing his face against Therion. He was starting to think he liked it better when the creature didn't like him. ( _Sneaky man, worried we lose Grass man?_ )

Therion grumbled, giving up on trying to squirm his way free. Figures, Craving was in his head constantly. "...relationships, even the good ones, they're temporary. One way or another they end. Even if this works out and lasts for years... we don't even know if we still age. Best case scenario is we end up outliving him by age. And if we are still mortal? Alfyn's too good a guy, to wind up where we're going."

( _No, we, we keep Grass man safe. Grass man love us._ ) Craving whined, his grip on him tightening.

"We can't stop him from growing old." This was a bad idea, of course Craving wasn't going to understand. "Everything alive dies eventually. And after what happened in Whispermill, I know the afterlife is real and I'm damned no matter what we do." Craving whined in his ear again. "Losing him is... we can't avoid it forever."

 

Therion awoke with the dawn, the stinging light stirring him from slumber. He found himself curled up in Alfyn's lap, the apothecary snoring and slumped against the rock face they had camped under. Stupid, he didn't know when Alfyn had fallen asleep but with neither of them keeping watch it put them both at risk. Even so, nothing seemed amiss.

The conversation he had with Craving that night lingered in the back of his mind as the two of them got ready and set out. He truly was happier than he had ever been, meeting everyone, but... how long would the friendships last? They couldn't all keep traveling forever. The possibility that they might drift apart... well, that was the best case scenario. It was a miracle none of them had died so far on their journeys. It hurt, knowing he would find himself alone again one day.

One day, but not today. Today Alfyn walked in step next to him, humming an old folk tune that was distantly familiar in Therion's ears. However long they had together, he was going to treasure every moment of it.

 

Orewell was a small settlement, old buildings in need of repair dotting the high cliffs. A chasm separated the town into two halves, connected by bridges. Far below and lingering at the west side of town were the dense trees of the wilds, both a source of resources for the town and a danger. It was the sort of town where people worried more about monsters than thieves. In his experience there just wasn't much worth stealing here. (Though, if you needed to lie low and get by on odd jobs for a while, it was a good place to be.)

Alfyn found patients quickly, what they had overheard was true- the town was in dire need of medicine. They were led to the town's community center, which had been converted into an infirmary for the sick. (If Therion had to guess, it had been an attempt to quarantine them to prevent the illness from spreading even more.)

"Looks like we got here just in time." Alfyn took in the room, crowded with people in bedrolls. He approached his first patient with his usual friendly smile and introduction, settling on his knees as he worked out their symptoms. Therion, meanwhile, set up some materials on the small table in the center of the room. Dried herbs, seeds, his own mortar and pestle that he wound up buying back in Riverford.

Alfyn relayed him the symptoms. Sore throat, fever, body aches. He had an idea for a medicine in mind, walking Therion through the steps as he prepared his own batch. While Alfyn attended to patients, administering medicine and checking on their conditions, Therion busied himself with preparing more doses.

The door opened and Therion glanced up. An older man, small flecks of white dusted in the dark hair on his head and face, an apothecary's satchel worn over his shoulder, glowered at him with a disapproving expression. It was a moment before Therion recognized him- that other apothecary from Saintsbridge. The one who refused to treat Miguel.

"Oh, hey!" Alfyn waved at him as he stepped back over to check on Therion's mixtures. "Fancy meeting you here- gods know this town needs all the apothecaries it can get right now." He approached, extending his hand to the man. "Don't think we ever gave proper introductions- name's Alfyn, and my partner over there is Therion! I've got a good feeling we can sort this out fast between the three of us!"

The other apothecary looked between Alfyn and his extended hand before walking past him. "Ogen. I prefer to work alone, if you'll excuse me." He set down his satchel on the opposite side of the room. "I see you're still keeping company with thieves."

Alfyn frowned, dropping his hand. "...yeah, and I see you're still as judgmental as you were before."

"Hey-" Therion could see that Alfyn's temper was starting to bubble up, and now was not the time for arguments. "This thief could use a hand over here. You have more soothing seeds in your satchel, right?"

"Oh, yeah, here let's take a look at what you've got." Alfyn came back over, refocusing on their work.

While Alfyn was focused on their patients, Therion fell into his usual habit of listening in on the entire room. Ogen would question each of his patients on their livelihood before starting his treatment. It sounded like everybody was meeting his standards. There was more though, was they worked Therion noticed that Ogen had a bit of a cough. There were also several occasions where he heard something clatter to the ground, the older apothecary glaring at him if he glanced over as he picked up his tools with stiff, shaky hands.

"Phew, alright, that's about all we can do for now." Alfyn clapped a hand onto Therion's shoulder. "I don't know about you but I'm ready t' hit the tavern!"

Therion set to cleaning and packing up their supplies. "Sounds like a plan. Just don't drink too much." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I'm going to get drunk biting you one of these days. Seriously, how do you stay so sober?"

 

The menu at the local tavern was different from most other places in the Cliftlands. The more fertile soil allowed for actual farming, just outside of town. They utilized more fruits and vegetables, and the nearby forest offered up a wider selection of game. What caught Therion's attention was how they utilized some local apples in their dishes.

Midway into their meals (and their second mugs of mead), Ogen entered the tavern and took a seat a few chairs down from where Alfyn and Therion were seated. Therion could feel the man's eyes on him, but he tried to focus on his meal instead. The food and drink here was good, Alfyn was good company, it was shaping up to be a good evening and some grouchy apothecary with a vendetta against thieves wasn't going to ruin that for him.

Therion excused himself to find the restroom, leaving the two apothecaries alone at the bar.

"Would have thought you learned your lesson, after what happened in Saintsbridge." Ogen looked over at Alfyn, there was something lingering behind his typical sour mood. Worry, regret? "Took a look at your medicines. Unrefined, but made with care. You show promise. It'd be a shame for you to get dragged down by the company you keep."

Alfyn shook his head. "Therion ain't like Miguel. He's a caring person, if ya take the time t' know him."

"Men like him bring trouble. You never know with criminals, just when something from their past will crop up. You keep hanging around him, you're going to get hurt. Either directly or indirectly." Ogen went to lift his own mug, drink sloshing out as his hand shook. He lowered it before he could make a bigger mess.

Alfyn raised an eyebrow. "Say, ya doin' alright there? Looks like you're hands are shakin' something awful."

Ogen huffed out an annoyed breath, dropping leaves on the counter and turning to leave. "I'd say you've had too much to drink." He started to walk away, then paused. "Consider what I told you, before you do something you regret."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me getting started on this chapter: Oho, Alfyn and Therion are gonna have some nice alone time on the road~
> 
> Me after writing: ...well that didn't go quite as expected.


	34. Second Taste

The chat with Ogen left Alfyn in a sour mood. What did that old fart know? Therion would never do anything to hurt him, or any of their friends. And, yeah, he had been involved with at least one pretty rotten person. That Darius guy. But that wasn't Therion's fault, and if anything it was all the more reason for him to stick around and keep helping out.

Therion returned and noted two things. One, Ogen was gone. Two, Alfyn was frowning into his drink. He climbed back up into his seat. "Oh no, what did that jerk tell you this time?"

"Just, more of what he was goin' on about earlier." Alfyn sighed and drained the rest of his mug.

"Figures." The chain of his bangle clinked as he moved to pick up his fork again. "You don't have to defend me. People like that, his mind is made up. Trying to convince him otherwise is just a waste of time and energy for all of us."

"Every time he's met ya it was when you were helpin' folks. It just, it ain't fair. It ain't right." Alfyn prodded at his own meal as a third mug was set in front of him. "Shouldn't your actions speak more t' your character than that thing on your wrist?"

"Part of why I said the guy's mind is already made up. He doesn't seem like the sort to trust easily. Comes with traveling alone on the road." It came with many things, really. If the guy didn't have personal experience, somebody he knew or was close to did. Most thieves, well they aren't the sort to inspire trust in others. "Guy seems stubborn too. What sort of apothecary keeps working even when sick?"

Alfyn paused mid drink. "Wh- sick? Why do ya say that?"

"You were pretty focused on your work, but he was coughing quite a bit earlier." Therion leaned an elbow on the bar. "He kept dropping his tools too. Frustrated as he looked I'd say that it isn't typical for him."

Alfyn pursed his lips. "Thought I saw his hands shaking- shucks if he's sick he shouldn't be seein' patients. For his sake and theirs. I'll have t' find him in the morning." He shook his head. "Hope he ain't too stubborn to accept a helping hand."

 

It was dark by the time they left the tavern, staggering together back towards the inn. Therion clung to Alfyn's arm, keeping him close to the middle of the path. The town had fencing up around the steep drops of the cliffs, but he wasn't about to trust them if one of them actually tripped and stumbled into them. Alfyn chuckled, leaning against him as they walked. Therion found himself all too aware of the apothecary's pulse against him, as much as he was anticipating getting back to their room he had to force himself not to rush.

It was a long way down, after all.

Much like the rest of the town, the local inn was small and rough around the edges. The floorboards creaked as they made their way, as quietly as they could, down the hall to their room. The sound of someone coughing drifted through the door next to theirs.

Therion frowned as he fiddled with the door handle. They key worked fine, it was unlocked, but the door sat improperly in its frame causing it to stick. At last he tugged it free, revealing to them their tiny room. Dust motes danced in the moonlight filtering in through the cracked window. There was maybe enough space between the table and bed for one person to stand. It wasn't one of the better places they had stayed in, but it at least looked (and smelled) clean.

The coughing the next door over grew more insistent, Alfyn frowned and looked like he was considering going over and knocking.

"Come on," Therion looped his arm back around Alfyn's elbow to pull him into the room. "whoever that is can wait until morning, you need-" he froze and looked at the door himself, catching on to the all too familiar scent of blood. There was no mistaking it, Craving whined at the back of his mind. ( _They needed blood, they had plans once he and Alfyn were alone- but..._ )

He dropped his voice to a whisper. "Or not... I smell blood." Therion let go of Alfyn's arm.

Alfyn swallowed and made his way over to the door, giving it a short series of urgent knocks. "Sorry for the bother, but is everything alright in there?"

A rough, familiar voice responded. "Leave me be." Ogen. Sounded like he might be sicker than they thought.

The coughing started up again and Therion rolled his eyes, digging out his lockpicks.

"That really doesn't sound good-" Alfyn kept talking through the door, stepping aside as Therion started on the lock.

"It's-" another cough, "it's none of your concern. I'm fine."

Therion huffed out a breath. "Even if Alfyn wasn't already going to be worried, we're in the next room over. So maybe at least let us help enough so you aren't hacking up your lungs all night."

"Then consider it payback for the racket you two caused in Saintsbridge." The coughing grew more severe. "Good night."

Alfyn stammered and Therion felt the click of the lock giving way. He pulled open the door without hesitation, meeting Ogen's annoyed glare with his own.

Ogen was seated on his bed, bloodied handkerchief in hand. Alfyn forgot his embarrassment at the sight, rushing over.

"Alright, like it or not you're getting a check-up." Alfyn set his satchel down at his side as he kneeled next to the bed. Ogen swatted his hands away.

"Get the hells out of my room, I don't need any help." His coughing fit resumed, ended as he hacked up more blood into his handkerchief.

Therion pulled the door closed behind him as he stepped into the room, arms crossed in front of his chest. He watched silently, something about this didn't sit well with him. Coughing up blood, unsteady hands, it almost reminded him of...

Alfyn pouted. "I ain't about t' leave ya to cough up blood all night. Just, please, let me help you?"

Ogen grumbled, relenting and allowing Alfyn to start checking his vitals. "...I was like you, once. Treated anyone who showed up needing help. One day, a criminal on the run showed up in our town. Gravely injured by his pursuers." He paused to cough, eyes averting to his handkerchief. "I felt proud, nursing the man back to health. Until one day... I went into the forest to collect herbs. Left my wife alone with him. When I returned the man was gone. My wife," he locked eyes with Alfyn, tone deathly serious. "I found her unrecognizable, in a pool of her own blood."

"...I'm." Alfyn lowered his hand from where he was feeling Ogen's pulse. "I'm sorry." There was a moment of silence as the tale sank in, Alfyn's brow furrowed and he reached over to tug down on Ogen's shirt collar. "What's- a purple rash?" He went back to his examination and shook his head. "Gods it's, it's like you're falling apart from the inside out."

A purple rash? Therion's eyes went wide. "The Pestilence." How had he not seen it sooner? Those symptoms that he remembered so clearly as they slowly took his family from him, so long ago.

Ogen nodded, expression grim. "At this stage, it's only a matter of time. If we're done here-"

"Now just hang on a second- Ogen how could ya let it get t' this point?" Alfyn shook his head. "There are treatments now, that ya can do when ya notice the first signs. Even if those fail there's plenty of ways t' make sure ya don't suffer-"

"I am aware." The older apothecary gave him a pointed look. "I told you before, who I treat is my choice..."

Alfyn tsked and opened his satchel, digging through his supplies. "You don't deserve to die like this, here I can give ya somethin' so you can at least sleep through the night."

Ogen shook his head. "Don't bother. In my years of travel, I've contracted many diseases. Not once have I treated myself. I don't deserve it." His eyes averted. "...during my travels, I found that man again. He had a wife, a child of some five summers. They were all so happy together, I was so angry- seeing that man enjoy the very thing he stole from me. I waited until he was alone, followed him into a back alley." He sighed. "It's a strange thing. Saving his life took days, ending it but seconds. I fled town right after, the pain I must have brought on his wife and child...I can't bear to think of it, so I don't. I'm a sinner, a killer, my life is not worth saving."

Therion watched as Alfyn's expression shifted from emotion to emotion. Concern, sadness, disbelief, acceptance. His brow furrowed and he huffed out a frustrated breath, "Bullshit."

Alfyn continued, determined, before Ogen could reply. "I've seen a whole lot on my journey- and you are far from a bad person! Fuck- I've seen necromancers throwing lives away to make crystals from _human blood_! I saw a guy use one of those things to turn himself into a monster! People have been trying to _fucking_ kill me and my friends left and right- we faced down a **_damned cult of Galdera!_** Found out my boyfriend has a **demon** bound to him! You killed the guy who killed your wife? Great, fine, **I don't give a damn**! You're suffering and ain't nothing going t' stop me from helpin' ya- because that's what I do! I'm a healer- and you are too- and Dohter help me if you ain't done bein' a healer." He reached back into his satchel, pulling out ingredients and tools. "Now, I'm gonna help ya get some sleep, and just you wait because tomorrow I'm gonna mix up an elixir that'll have you feeling like a new man!"

Therion stood by, eyes wide. He had seen Alfyn angry a few times, but this was the first time he had ever heard a string of such colorful language from him. Ogen sat in equal shock from the rant, looking between the two of them. The silence was only broken up by the man's coughing.

The older apothecary was staring at him, Therion sighed and rolled his eyes. Well, the damage was done. "Yeah, by the way, hell is real. It sucks. Let us help you avoid it a bit longer."

Ogen fell back onto his pillow. "...I'm too old for this."

 

 

Back in their own room, Therion struggled to pull the door closed as Alfyn fell into the bed. The apothecary groaned, dragging his hands over his face.

Door closed and locked, Therion looked back at Alfyn as he began to undress for bed. "So, what's the plan then?"

"Gods- I actually don't know." Alfyn dropped his arms to rest on either side of his head as he stared up at some dusty cobwebs on the ceiling. "The Pestilence is so deadly. All you can really do is delay the progression...ease the pain."

Therion laid his scarf and mantel on the table. "That's- wait. Didn't you say you caught the Pestilence, when you were a kid?"

"I did. Gods, if I just knew what was in that elixir." Alfyn lightly thumped his head with his fist. "If I could just remember what happened back then..."

Therion nodded, settling into his side of the bed. It was too bad he couldn't just, lend him Craving for a moment. The demon was skilled at digging up memories. (Craving perked up at that and a strange idea came to his mind. _Bite his tongue, just a bit, give Alfyn a small taste_.)

Alfyn looked up at him. "You okay? Ya got a funny look on your face."

"Yeah, I... I think Craving wants to help you?" This felt like a bad idea. Harmless as Craving was now, he was still a demon. There was no telling what his little plan would actually do.

"Heh, aw. That's sweet of him." Alfyn sat up, the small smile barely holding on. "Ain't sure there's much he could do, though. Stuck in your head and all."

"..." Therion looked away. "He wants you to taste my blood. I don't know what it would do."

"Ah-" Alfyn swallowed a knot in his throat. That was different. "Do you think it might actually help?"

( _Yes, yes! Will help!_ ) Therion grumbled and pressed a hand to his temple. "I don't know, but he sure thinks so."

Alfyn was quiet, considering. "Well, I'm willing to give it a shot if you are." His heartbeat had picked up, nervous, but determined.

"You're that desperate to cure grouchy old Ogen? You realize we're messing with a demon here. He wouldn't hurt you on purpose anymore, but- this could be dangerous." Therion was really not sure of this, but Craving was all but screaming at him now to try. ( _Alfyn had already agreed. Let him help!_ )

Alfyn nodded. "Ogen, and any other poor souls who might catch the Pestilence in the future. There's a cure, it ain't well known now but if we could figure it out... it'd save so many folks from suffering."

Therion let out a defeated sigh. "Alright, here..." He carefully bit into his own tongue, allowing his blood to gather in his mouth before moving in, meeting Alfyn for a kiss.

Alfyn's breath hitched, moving up his arms to cling to Therion. He felt... something. A presence in his mind. Similar to when he heard that purring, back in Riverford. The two of them parted, Alfyn forced himself to swallow. The presence lingered, but aside from that... nothing.

Therion searched Alfyn's face. "Well?"

"I, don't know?" Alfyn rubbed his head. It felt strange. "There's something? I think..." He tried to focus in on it, there were emotions that were not his own seeping into his mind. "I think Craving is excited to help? And hungry?"

Well what do you know, sharing his blood had done something after all. Cyrus was going to have a fit. (...maybe this was something to keep to themselves. He didn't want the professor asking if he could taste his blood too.) "If he finds anything he'll show you in your sleep, doesn't really talk otherwise."

"Hm." Alfyn leaned back in, pressing a kiss to Therion's forehead. "Well, I'm thankful t' both of ya, if this works or not. Heh, we should feed him, he seems kinda antsy about it."

"He's always like that." Hopefully the connection was temporary, Alfyn spoiled Craving enough without having a direct tie to his desires. Therion leaned in, kissing at Alfyn's neck.

The apothecary gasped, tilting his head to give Therion better access. On top of his own anticipation he could feel it from Craving as well. A desire to bite, savor, it felt possessive. Predatory. But also, adoring, every sound he made stirred Craving up more. Once Therion's teeth sank into the crook of his neck he heard the purring at the back of his mind.

Gods, and Therion lived with this? Alfyn struggled to keep his voice down, with Craving's feelings filtering into his mind it was more difficult. Intense. "Therion-" he sucked in another breath, groaning at the slow, deliberate licking at his neck. "Therion I'm- not gonna last long-"

Therion hummed, moving in to climb into Alfyn's lap. "You want me to stop?"

Alfyn whined, moving to grind up against Therion. "Don't you dare."

With a chuckle Therion returned the gesture, slowly feeling him out before trailing a hand down to free them. He tilted his head up, whispering into Alfyn's ear as he gripped the two of them together. "Think you could give me a hand?"

Alfyn barked out a short laugh, "need help getting a grip on things?" His giggles shifted into a moan as Therion tightened his grip. He removed an arm from around Therion's shoulder, moving to tangle their fingers together.

The banter died as they moved their hands together, stroking as Alfyn bucked up into the motions. Replaced by heavy breaths and bit back moans. Therion returned his attention to the bite wound on Alfyn's neck, allowing himself to purr as they clung and moved together.

 

 

  
It was the moment of truth as the pair of them dozed off, spent and weary from the long day. For a moment Alfyn found himself in a strange place, dark in all directions yet, despite there being no apparent source of light, he could see his own hands clearly. The place smelled of blood, the familiar scent made him feel ill and uneasy.

"Wait! Don't-" That voice, Therion?

Alfyn looked around, before he could even start to pinpoint where his voice and the sounds of running were coming from something large collided with him at speed. He shouted in surprise as he was pulled against something large and furry, vibrating with purrs as it rubbed its face against him like a cat.

"Craving- hey, focus." There was Therion's voice again. (All Alfyn could see was a sea of white fluff, something giving off a faint red glow.) "We did this because you said you could help, not to have you smother him."

The creature huffed and released Alfyn enough for the apothecary to get a good look at it. Massive, more batlike in appearance save for the massive, red, catlike eyes. It chirped, large ears folded back, looking over at Therion.

"Therion? Is this... Craving?" He reached up, giving the creature a scratch under the chin. It immediately leaned into the touch, purring once more. Alfyn looked between the two of them, brow furrowing as he eyed the strange runes that looped around Craving and Therion. "What is this place?"

"Not sure, think Craving lives here or something?" The thief shook his head. "There'll be more time for questions when we're awake. Don't know how long this will last for." He directed his last statement, sternly, at Craving.

Craving made another chirping sound at Therion, staring at him a moment before turning back to him. ( _Grass man! I help!_ )

Alfyn's eyes went wide, the creature didn't talk so much as put thoughts directly into his head. There wasn't time to question it, the area around them shifted- shades of his home as it was years past, his mother, himself as a sickly child in bed, and the stranger who had saved his life.

The apothecary carefully supported young Alfyn to sit up just enough to drink down the offered vial of liquid. "Easy now, this will help."

"Thank you, mister." Young Alfyn's voice sounded ragged, likely from the coughing that came with his illness. "But, why are ya helpin' us? We ain't got no money y'know..."

"Listen, son, and listen well." The apothecary carefully laid him back down, tucking him back into his blanket. "I saw someone in a bind, and I helped them out. Simple as that." He smiled, soft and kind. (There was, Therion noticed, an air of sadness about the man. In his voice, his expressions. Try as he might to hide it.)

"Shucks..." Little Alfyn settled into his blankets. "I hope I can do that too someday."

The memory faded as Alfyn's younger self must have fallen asleep, when it came back it was apparent that a couple of hours had passed. The Apothecary stood at the counter, tools and ingredients set out. Alfyn's mother was no longer in the room. Little Alfyn slid out of his bed, wandering over to peek at what the apothecary was doing.

The man looked down and chuckled. "Now, what are you doing up? You need your rest."

Little Alfyn pouted as he was led back towards the bed. "I wanted t' know how ya made that potion. Not even Zeph's pa could help me feel better..."

"I see, you really do want to be an apothecary yourself one day." Little Alfyn nodded as the apothecary tucked him back in under the covers. "Well, the elixir I gave you was brewed from a very special ingredient. The feather of an ogre eagle, a beast so massive its wings block out the sun. They live in the distant wilds of the forest of Rubeh. Small boy like you would do well not to seek it out, it would snatch you up and carry you away above the clouds."

"The forest of Rubeh." Alfyn repeated as the memory faded away. He grinned wide, looking back over at Craving and Therion. "Well, ain't that a stroke of luck! Ogen better look out- we're gonna save him yet!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Craving is a very happy Batcat.
> 
> I'm sure playing around with demons and blood magic will have no repercussions whatsoever. *coughs*


	35. Downy Ideals

The following morning was one of the rare occasions that Alfyn woke up on his own. He blinked, squinting at the light filtering into the room. The presence of Craving in his mind was gone, the connection fading away at some point during the night. That had been something else, that dream he had. It felt too real, he could still remember the texture of Craving's fur, the warmth of his body and breath. The constant smell of blood lingering in the air. Friendly as Craving was, that place had been unsettling.

Therion stirred, grumbling as he pressed his face into Alfyn's chest. Alfyn chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Morning. Drink hitting ya?"

Therion shook his head. "M'fine." Ignoring the protests at the back of his mind, from himself and from Craving, he moved to sit up. "So, feather of an Ogre Eagle, hu?" They had fought off eagles and condors in the past, traveling in the Cliftlands. In theory, it shouldn't be too difficult.

Alfyn nodded, sitting up and stretching. "Yeah, lucky us they're supposed t' live near here!" He stayed sat in the bed as Therion got up, dressing himself and running his fingers through his messy hair. "That was, shucks I can't believe we shared a dream like that? Or, whatever that was I guess..."

Whatever it was indeed. If it had been someplace within Therion's mind, would Alfyn had been pulled into it? (He still remembered, how Alfyn seemed to shine compared to him and Craving. He looked out of place.) "What's important is it worked." Therion sat back on the bed to properly lace up his boots. "Could we, not tell Cyrus about this?"

"Hm?" Alfyn glanced over, hair tie in his mouth as he pulled back his locks. "Ain't this somethin' he should know about?"

Therion grumbled. Cyrus would very much want to know about this discovery of theirs. "I don't want him asking to taste my blood too. Or to have to sit through some sort of lecture..." he frowned down at his feet, tugging the knot a little too tight. "call me crazy, but anything that lets a demon slip into your mind seems a bit dangerous to mess with."

"That, sounds like all th' more reason we should tell him. He knows the most about magic stuff out of all of us. I mean, I get what you're sayin..." Convincing himself to swallow Therion's blood had been difficult, there was no way to describe it other than it felt _wrong_. Like he was willingly swallowing a poison. "But, y'know, pretendin' nothin' happened won't mean we don't have t' face what might happen."

Therion frowned, he really didn't want to let Cyrus know. Surely there was no reason for him to, so long as nothing happened. But, no, that would be putting Alfyn at risk- wouldn't it? Securing his scarf around the lower half of his face, he made his way for the door. "...I'll think about it. Come on, we should eat before we go rushing off into the woods."

 

  
The Forest of Rubeh was a different sort than the dense, damp wilderness of the Woodlands. It was warmer, without the chill and mist that came from proximity to the Frostlands. The trees were a mixture of evergreens and trees just starting to shift in color, dyeing the canopy a myriad of hues. As they entered into the forest they crossed a bridge spanning over a small river. Even with what the two of them had learned from H'aanit, and Alfyn's previous outdoor experience, Therion felt on edge. This far out from the main roads and busier towns was where the largest monsters roamed.

"Heh, it's too bad we don't have H'aanit with us." Alfyn kept his voice hushed. He had asked around during his morning rounds, checking on his patients, to see if he could find out a bit more about the local monsters. "Bet she'd spot the eagle a mile off."

Therion nodded, eyeing a large snake slithering through the distant undergrowth. The locals looked at them like they were crazy when Alfyn mentioned they were going after the beast, just the two of them. Warned that even skilled hunters avoided ogre eagle territory- that they grew large feeding on the native devil deer and massive ettin snakes. (They had seen both at a distance, anything that hunted them had to be fierce. Strong.)

Deep into the forest they found the path sloping upwards until they broke into a clearing. They found themselves upon a high cliff, overlooking a grand, distant waterfall. Alfyn gasped at the sight, slowly making his way into the open area. Therion stuck close behind, eyes and ears on high alert. They were incredibly high up, deep in monster territory, exposed.

Therion reached out and stopped Alfyn before he got too close to the edge. "Be on your guard. We don't know-" he paused, squinting at the area in front of him. Barely visible in the tall grass were two huddled forms, fluffy golden down blending into the dry foliage. Dark, bright eyes staring at them. Two speedy, young heartbeats that he nearly missed among the sounds of nature.

He pulled Alfyn back a step, a feeling of dread settling over him. H'aanit had warned them that many beasts were at their most dangerous when they thought their young were in danger. "Alfyn- we shouldn't-"

He was cut off by a screech from above, a great shadow blocked out the sun as the massive creature descended at speed. A grand griffon with a rainbow crest of feathers, raised to make the horse-sized creature seem even larger. The ground shook as it landed between them and its hidden cubs, keeping its wings spread wide.

"Sorry, buddy. I just need a feather from ya." Alfyn slowly pulled out his axe. The ogre eagle growled, stepping forward.

Therion swallowed and reached for his sword. "Alfyn, there's-"

He, again, didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The creature reared up, screeching and whipping up a great wind with its wings. The gale grew in force- wind magic- Therion's eyes went wide as he was bracing against the wind one moment, and in the air the next. ( _Falling, he was falling-_ )

He felt himself slam into the trunk of a tree, swearing as the impact rattled his brain. The fall was short, ending as he slumped into dead leaves and moss. Therion forced himself to his feet, it was a small miracle that he had managed to keep his grip on his sword. He could hear the ogre eagle screeching in the distance. Just how far had he been swept away? A quick (frantic _, he needed to hurry_ ) survey of the area and he spotted a steep rise hidden in the trees. The sounds carried from up there.

Swearing and sheathing his sword, Therion set to getting back up as quickly as he could. The first, brilliant idea to come to mind was to scale the rocky cliff he had fallen from. It couldn't be more difficult than climbing up onto rooftops...right? He started climbing, pausing halfway up as part of him realized just what he was doing. ( _He was fine, this was fine, he wasn't going to fall he-_ )

There was another loud screech from above, followed by a loud shout from Alfyn. Shit. Therion didn't know how he pulled himself up the rest of the cliff, but it felt like he reached the top in an instant. The beast had Alfyn pinned to the ground, the apothecary blocking its claws and beak with his axe.

Therion ran, drawing his sword and extending his other hand palm out. He couldn't risk not getting there in time, he called upon his flames with a shout. The ogre eagle reared up again, backing away from Alfyn and turning its attention instead onto him.

Alfyn scrambled to his feet, scuffed and scratched ( _not enough blood for a serious injury, he was fine, for now._ ) Before he could lift his axe again he was thrown back to the ground, struck by the ogre eagle's wing. Therion rushed in, his gut reaction to get Alfyn out of there.

Therion dodged around the swipes of the beast's talons, grabbing and dragging Alfyn back along the ground. "It's not going to back down. It has cubs."

"It-" Alfyn pushed himself back up. The ogre eagle was staring them down, breathing heavily. Alfyn had gotten in a couple of glancing blows, feathers from the struggle already littered the ground. He hadn't been planning to kill the creature just to get a feather or two, he had been hoping to just drive it off.

With a quick glance at the ogre eagle, Therion helped Alfyn to his feet before tugging him back down the path. "We should go."

"But," Alfyn looked torn. "The feather- we can't have done all this just t' go back empty handed!"

There was another loud cry and gust of wind, Therion gripped tight to Alfyn as the magic gale force cut into them, strips of magic making fine cuts into their skin and clothing. Therion hissed, gripping his scarf with his other hand to keep it from flying away. Fine, they got into this mess for a feather, they wouldn't leave until they got one. Therion opened his mouth to speak, but only had time to let out a shout as he shoved him and Alfyn apart as the beast charged. Claws swiping where they once stood.

"Easy, big mama, we ain't here for your babies." Alfyn had the ogre eagle's attention again, he had put away his axe and was making an attempt to placate the creature. Hands up, taking a couple steps back, keeping his tone even and calm. "Therion, think ya could snatch up some of the feathers from the ground?"

Therion nodded, taking a moment to plan out his next moves. The creature was still keeping a close eye on him, so sneaking into the nest wasn't an option. He would have to rely on his speed. Get in, grab the feathers, get out.

Aeber guide him, this was going to be a tricky one.

He took off, the sudden movement grabbing the attention of the beast. He snatched up the rainbow hued feathers from the ground, stuffing them into a pocket in his mantel as he spun to avoid the swipe of talons. The world seemed to slow as he dipped and dived as the ogre eagle clawed and snapped at him. He smiled to himself as he danced back, out of the nest. It faded as he noticed the tattered, purple cloth the creature sheered and dropped to the ground. The chill blowing around his neck.

 

 

They fled halfway back to town before stopping for breath, Alfyn bracing himself against a tree as Therion dropped onto a patch of mossy ground. "That." Therion huffed, panting out a couple more breaths before digging into his mantel. "Might have been the dumbest thing we've ever done."

Alfyn let out a breathy laugh, joining him on the moss to open up his satchel. "I dunno, I did some pretty stupid stuff as a kid." He pulled out his water skin, taking a drink before offering it to Therion.

"Well. You didn't get yourself almost eaten." He traded the handful of large feathers for the water skin, taking a thankful drink. "All for some feathers."

"They ain't just any feathers, these feathers are gonna save lives." Alfyn grinned bright, carefully placing the feathers into his satchel. "How are you doing? Didn't see where you went when you got blown away."

Now that he was having a chance to calm down, he felt off. Like the world was swaying. Therion reached up and rubbed the back of his head. "A bit sore, but nothing that won't be better by tomorrow." He moved to grab his scarf and paused, frowning. It was gone, and he wasn't crazy enough to try and retrieve the scraps from that monster's nest.

"Hey..." Alfyn placed a gentle hand on his back, "sorry about your scarf. Know it was important to ya."

Therion sighed, it was a useful tool- something to conceal his identity and hide his condition. Though it was also a comfort. Warmth in the cold of night, a soft texture to keep his mind at ease. He had another one, the one he used in the desert, but it wasn't quite the same. "It's fine." Therion pushed himself to his feet. "We better get back before some other monster has a go at us."

 

 

  
Back at the inn Alfyn was busy as he worked to brew the elixir. Therion stood by, leaning on the wall, standing by just in case he was needed for something. The more delicate scarf from his dancer's outfit was draped loose around his neck.

He felt eyes on him, sure enough when he looked over Ogen was staring at him. Therion frowned at him. "Look, if you want me to leave just say so."

Ogen shook his head. "I'm curious, just why the two of you travel together. How Alfyn found someone like you attached to him."

"Safer travels, at the start. You're a traveler, you know how the roads can be." Therion considered, his gaze kept wandering to Alfyn's back as he worked. "Got my ass handed to be by monsters, woke up at his place. Honestly, if he hadn't _stolen my pants_ I'd have gotten out of there."

"H-hey now!" Alfyn called from his spot at the table. "Okay, for one you needed stitches on your leg. Even if your pants hadn't been torn up and bloody they had t' come off." He turned around, vial in hand, and approached Ogen's bedside. "Alright, here ya go. There's a lotta folks who still need your help, Ogen, you're not done yet."

Elixir taken, Ogen fell back against his pillow. "It's funny, you remind me of a man I once knew. Told me the same thing, all those years ago when I first lost my wife. After I lost her, I didn't want to keep going. Considered ending it all." He stared up at the ceiling, a distant look in his eye. "Didn't understand why he would help a sorry sod like myself. Told me he saw somebody in a bind, and helped him out. Simple as that."

"Those words-" Alfyn's eyes went wide, and Therion understood why. "I heard the same thing once, from an apothecary who saved me when I was just a kid. Heh, inspiration behind me becomin' an apothecary and going on this journey in fact."

A small smile quirked onto Ogen's face. "He'd be proud. Knowing him." The smile faded. "...the man's name is- was- Graham Crossford. The man had traveled across the continent trying to brew an elixir for his dying wife...but he was too late to save her. He told me about a bright, young boy he wound up giving the elixir to. Funny, how these things work out."

Therion wandered over to start cleaning up Alfyn's supplies. A thought came to mind and he chuckled. "Some might call it divine providence. If you believe in that sort of thing."

Ogen rolled his eyes at him. "As I was saying... he became a close friend, we exchanged letters and met up time to time. Couple years ago those letters stopped coming, he...vanished. Fear he became another victim of the roads." He sighed and closed his eyes. "It's good to know there's someone carrying on his legacy... he was a good man."

A solemn look settled on Alfyn's face, bittersweet. He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Yeah, he was."

 

 

The following few days were busy, treating the local epidemic on their own and monitoring Ogen's recovery. In that time Alfyn decided on a plan. When they had the free time Therion helped him get materials, they managed to get a wooden pole. Carefully carving Graham's name into the grain. On their final day in town, the locals and Ogen recovered, they spent the day gathering wildflowers and assembling (with permission from the town) a makeshift grave overlooking the distant wilds.

Their work done, Alfyn took a seat on the ground in front of their creation. Therion joined him at his side. A gentle wind blew, sending early autumn leaves drifting through the air.

Alfyn took a deep breath, then let it out. When he spoke he addressed the grave itself. "You always were an inspiration to me. I'm gonna keep holding what ya taught me close t' my heart. Only wish I coulda met ya again, one last time... show ya just how far I've come."

"Knowing him, he would have felt the same about you." Ogen strolled up behind them, he had been watching their efforts at a distance.

Alfyn looked up at the older apothecary, smiling. "Hey, Ogen! Glad t' see you're up and about."

"As is the rest of the town. You did a good job..." he paused, eyeing Therion. "...both of you."

Therion tugged up on his scarf. "Alfyn did most of the actual work."

Alfyn responded by nudging his shoulder. "Now who isn't givin' themself enough credit?" He laughed as Therion tugged up on his scarf more, hiding his flushed face. "But yeah, now that everyone's hale and hearty it's about time we moved on. Still a lotta folks out there who need the help of an apothecary, after all." He stood up, dusting off his pants and offering a hand to Therion. "What about you, Ogen?"

"Suppose I'll do the same. Keep atoning for my sins by doing some good for this world." He just had to look at Therion when he said that, the thief looked away. He turned his attention back to Alfyn. "I should thank you. For reminding me why I'm an apothecary in the first place." He clapped Alfyn on the shoulder, then turned to leave. "You two watch your backs on the road, maybe we'll meet again someday."


	36. Catching Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was harder than it had any right to be. *shakes fist at words*

After four days back on the road, Alfyn and Therion at last made it into the woodlands. Their campsite was meager compared to what they managed with a larger group, but at least they were able to have a proper campfire again. The flames popped and crackled as they waited for the fish Alfyn had caught in a nearby stream to cook.

Therion leaned back, watching the smoke and embers rise into the air. It was a calm evening, if he listened close he could just make out the chitter of small bats taking off as the sun set. The rustle of leaves as a gentle wind blew. There was a slight chill, Therion kept moving to readjust his scarf. But, there was nothing for it, the material was too thin.

Alfyn stoked the fire with a large, broken branch. "Hey, I'm sorry again, about your scarf..."

"You don't have to keep apologizing. It's fine." Therion stopped fiddling with the cloth and dropped his hand back to the ground. "It was just a strip of fabric."

"Well, it's just, things are sometimes more than that. Yeah, to any other person maybe it was just a tattered old thing." Alfyn thumbed the shoulder strap of his satchel. "Like maybe to some stranger this is just some old, beat-up bag. But," he gripped the strap tight, "t' me, it's somethin' really special. Zeph gave me his satchel when I first set out on my journey. That way it's like part of him is still at my side. It ain't much on it's own, but in sentimental value it's priceless." Alfyn smiled softly at the memory. "So, y'know, I won't think any less of ya if it was somethin' like that."

Therion nodded slowly. "...it was the only thing I had left, from. Well. Before. Think it was my father's?" He paused, listening to the fire. "I was still pretty torn up from losing them, once I met Darius... in a way, he was understanding. He lost his parents to the flames too. But, he also let me know real quick that he found it annoying if he ever caught me crying. It was a sign of weakness, and couple 'tea leafs' like us couldn't afford to show weakness."

"Darius- that was that guy back in Wellspring. The one you said...tried to kill you?" Alfyn retrieved the fish from the fire, handing one off to Therion. He frowned, "sounds like he was a real piece of work."

"I mean, by that point I was used to getting beat up by other kids. The guards. People who caught me trying to steal from them." Therion let out a small, sad laugh. "Figured that was just how the world was... and, well, you saw Riverford. Sort of place that will skew your world view."

"You ain't wrong there. Harald had a lot of plans t' fix the place up at least." Alfyn took a bite of his fish, continuing with his mouth full. "M'by we sh'd visit s'metime."

Therion rolled his eyes, nudging Alfyn with his shoulder. "You're going to choke doing that. But... maybe, can't say I'm in a hurry to go back." They ate in silence for a time, Therion had to admit that Alfyn was pretty good when it came to cooking fish. Well seasoned, cooked through but not overdone. (H'aanit was still the best cook out of all of them, but Alfyn's style of cooking felt more like home.)

Getting the final two dragonstones meant he would be facing down Darius again. There was no avoiding it. Therion picked at what remained of his fish as he thought. "Darius, looking back, he was a pretty rotten guy. But... it wasn't all bad. Sometimes I wish it had been, be easier to hate him that way. We looked out for each other, learned to play on each other's strengths on jobs and on the road. He taught me to use a sword, he'd sniff out potential marks and I'd get us in. He was always so quick to praise my skills..." He frowned, "he never liked it when I tried to give him advice. And every time he tried to take more of the spoils than we agreed upon- I gave him the benefit of the doubt every time. I was a fool to trust him in the first place, but... at the same time he was all I had."

Alfyn hummed, looking over at him with concern. "You didn't make any other friends when you two were on the road together?"

Therion shook his head. "Not a one. Now that I think about it... Darius always talked me out of it, scared people off. Always had some excuse, some reason that adding someone else to our group was a bad idea."

"...he knew exactly what he was doin'." Therion noticed a note of anger in Alfyn's voice. "Shucks- sorry. I just. Reminds me of Vanessa. How can people just, _use_ others and throw them away? How do they just... not care?"

"Well, they value money more for one." Therion leaned over, resting against Alfyn's side. "Darius... guy would rant and rave about how we couldn't trust anyone but ourselves. Made a point to tell me that trusting others was what put his old man on the pyre. Every time I pulled off a job with the innocent child act he'd remind me that that's what those people got for trusting me as we split the spoils. Don't think he's ever actually trusted anyone in his life."

"When you put it like that it's kinda sad..." Alfyn's arm wrapped around his shoulder.

"It is sad. But the guy's also dangerous. Scared of the world, but with power to do something about it... guess he took pointers on ruling from home." The campfire crackled, thoughts of how fearful Darius' men had been. Gareth's warnings about Northreach. If he really was taking pointers from Werner's ruling...

Even if he didn't have the stones, chances were he needed to be stopped.

 

  
Victor's Hollow was perhaps the largest settlement in the Woodlands. The city's arena drew in fighters and tourist from far and wide, seeking glory or fortune. Instead of being in harmony with the forest it cut itself into the surrounding wilderness, with tall buildings and stone paved paths. The first thing they encountered upon entering town were lines of merchant booths. Some sold the usual fair: game, produce, street food. But there were also those selling antiques, weapons, souvenirs inspired by the well known fighters that frequented the arena. (At a booth selling toys Therion spotted some wooden figures, one of the designs a swordsman painted blue. They reminded him of Olberic.)

"Alfyn! Therion!" An all-too-familiar young voice pierced over the crowd. Looking over they quickly spotted Tressa, waving her arms at them over her head, from her own little set-up.

Therion lead the way, weaving through the people. He surveyed Tressa's selection. Some weapons of Boulderfall make- she must have stocked up. Aside from that there were various trinkets they picked up on the road or bartering in towns (or that Therion would acquire- though she made it clear she would not touch anything he stole.)

Alfyn greeted her with his usual bright smile. "Heya, Tress! Gosh, talk about a busy place. I take it business has been good?"

"It sure has. Have I got a story for you two!" Tressa paused, threatening to slap Therion's hands away when he started to reach for one of the daggers. He rolled his eyes and tucked his hand back under his mantel. "It'll have to wait though. You guys do alright in Orewell?" A pause as she scrutinized the two of them. "Say, Therion, that's not your usual scarf?"

Therion fiddled with the thinner material between his fingers. "You could say we have our own story."

"Ha, ain't that right!" Alfyn clapped Therion on the back. "Ran into a familiar face- oh, but you're busy right now. Say, do ya know where Cyrus and Olberic might be?"

Tressa shrugged. "Well, if they aren't laying low at the inn or tavern, look for a crowd. Apparently Mister Olberic made a name for himself when he came for the big tournament!"

 

  
The tavern was bustling that evening. Primrose, H'aanit, and Ophilia had reached town shortly after them, so the group was once again together. Therion sipped his drink, listening in on the conversation silently for the most part. He might have chuckled at the part where Tressa complained that the antique dealer tried to buy her silence with a piece of candy. It earned him an annoyed look, but Tressa picked right back up with her tale.

"...but Captain Leon really didn't want his old friend's map. He said the treasure it lead to wasn't his to take. Well, the map lead to a cave that's not too far from town. Cyrus was surprised that nobody had ventured out and stumbled upon the treasure- the chest was half sticking out of the ground! But when we went out to dig it up-" Tressa gestured with her arms, "there was this HUGE purple tiger!"

"A Venomtooth tiger, actually." Cyrus added. "It was quite a shock, I did not realize that they were native here."

H'aanit shook her head, "They hale from further north, tis strange one wouldst venture this faren south. It couldst have been brought here, or driven out from its home. If it twas ill it may have comen here in searchen of easier prey."

"The beast was a formidable foe." Olberic sighed, "we feared you would not approve, but in the end we had to slay the creature."

"Yeah, it kept coming after us. Like, the more we tried to scare it off the meaner it got. It was a tough battle! Cyrus said I'm getting pretty good with the spells he's taught me- but nothing compares to his! My fire spell is like a little match next to his inferno!" She took a moment to reach into her pack. "It nearly pounced on Cyrus but Mister Olberic stopped it. He dove between them with his spear so fast! Anyway, we dug up the treasure after and found a couple things. There was a letter for Mister Leon, from his friend, and this!"

Tressa pulled her hand from her pack, holding it out towards the middle of the table. Opening her hand she revealed a gemstone unlike anything Therion had ever seen, sitting in her palm. The cabochon-cut gem glistened green, though the stone itself darkened to deep blues and aquas. The way the light played off and in the stone was like water. The others gasped, making impressed sounds, as Tressa sat there with a proud smile on her face.

Therion picked up the stone to take a closer look- it was surprisingly heavy for its size. He heard Tressa laugh, and his eyes flickered away from the stone back to her smug look.

"Impressed? It's called Eldrite! Rare treasure like this is gonna be perfect for the Merchant's fair!"

Therion let out a whistle. "I'll admit. I am." He placed the stone back in Tressa's hand. "A valuable treasure if I've ever seen one."

"A rarity is correct, in the accounts I have read on the stone the authors admitted to never seeing a sample for themselves." Cyrus got that look in his eyes as Tressa passed the stone over towards Ophilia. "Supposedly it fell as a meteorite from the heavens, which are difficult to find in and of themselves. Such stones have unique formations and some have combinations of minerals and elements we don't find natively."

The impromptu geology lesson carried on and Therion tuned the professor out. He watched the stone change hands until it returned to Tressa, at which point she tucked it away carefully in her pack.

"...might be infused with multiple elements. Ah, but I digress- I do hope the road treated the rest of you well." Cyrus turned his attention to Primrose. "How was your trip to Noblecourt?"

Primrose put on one of her fake smiles. "I found what I sought... though..." Therion noted that a hand went to her side. "The town has fallen far from the days my father was alive. Overseen by a group that calls themselves the Obsidians."

Therion coughed on his drink, lowering his mug. Primrose locked eyes on him, quirking her brow. "Is the name familiar to you?"

Therion let out a grumble, pressing a hand to his temple. When he spoke again it was at a whisper, "Enough to know they're dangerous and crossing them- or knowing too much about them- gets people dead."

"If you're planning on trying to talk me out of what I plan to do-" Primrose started, Therion held up a hand and shook his head.

"I'm not, but we should be careful about where we talk about it." He took a quick survey of the room, the other patrons seemed to be keeping to themselves. "Besides, I get the feeling you're in too deep to stop now."

Primrose nodded slowly, "Well, shall we change the subject? How was your and Alfyn's excursion to Orewell?" She smirked, genuinely this time.

Therion snorted, "Ah yes, treating the sick in a town lucky not to crumble away. _Real romantic._ "

Alfyn chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "The folks there were mighty thankful, that's for sure! Oh- and another apothecary showed up too. I actually met the guy back in Saintsbridge..." He dove into the story, explaining how they realized Ogen was ill and their encounter with the ogre eagle, how it turned out Ogen had been friends with the man who had saved his life. (He omitted just how, exactly, he was able to remember the ingredients to the elixir.)

 

  
By the time they made their way back to the inn it had gotten late, time flowing by all too quickly as they caught up with each other. Their chatter continued as they entered the common room of the inn, voices hushed to avoid waking the other patrons.

"It is so fortunate," Ophilia was chatting with Alfyn, "not only that you remembered what was in the cure, but that what you needed was so near! The gods must have truly smiled upon you and this Ogen."

Alfyn laughed nervously, "y-yeah, we sure got lucky."

The others were starting to retire for the evening, Ophilia bid them farewell and made her way up the stairs. Therion hung back, considering. He really didn't want to bring up the whole blood thing... Alfyn didn't seem to be experiencing any ill effects so was there really a need to?

"Hey, Cyrus." He caught the professor's attention as he began to go up the stairs. He still didn't want to do this, but pressed on. "We have something we need to tell you."

"Oh?" Cyrus stepped aside to allow Tressa to head on up. "What might it be? You have my attention."

Therion took a deep breath and headed up the steps himself, motioning for Cyrus to follow. "Privately. Hurry up, before I change my mind."

 

  
The three of them; Alfyn, Therion, and Cyrus, entered Alfyn and Therion's shared inn room. Therion plopped onto the bed, kicking off his boots before crossing his legs under him. This still felt like a horrible idea. What needed to be done, maybe, but the dread of it all lingered in his mind. Alfyn sat beside him, while Cyrus pulled up a chair.

"So, what is it you wished to tell me?" Cyrus offered as the silence dragged on a little too long.

"We..." Therion pushed a hand through his bangs, ducking down into his scarf. No backing out now. "We used Craving. To find the memory Alfyn needed."

Cyrus looked a little confused. "How, may I ask, did you manage such a feat? How did your demon gain access to Alfyn's mind to do so?"

"Blood." Therion started fiddling with his scarf. "It was Craving's idea. To give Alfyn a taste of our blood."

Cyrus' eyes widened, but he waited patiently for them to continue. Alfyn spoke up next. "We know it might not have been the best idea, but, I was ready t' try about anything... I mean, th' cure for the pestilence ain't well known. We didn't just save Ogen, we could possibly save others too. Felt strange, I gotta admit. Could feel what Craving was feeling."

"This is... quite the discovery you two have made." Cyrus pulled his notebook from his pack, flipping it open. "I cannot say I have ever heard of such a thing before. Though, I also cannot advise you two to attempt this again in the future. We don't know much about the blood magic that flows in Therion's veins, or more specifically the effects exposure over time may have on the human body."

Therion nodded, "sounds managable. No more bleeding into Alfyn's mouth."

"That's fair. For the record, I've been fine since then. The feelin' of Craving in my head was gone by th' morning."

"You may not feel the effects, no, but..." Cyrus got up, scrutinizing Alfyn more closely. "There is a...lingering magical signature on your person. It's very faint, I wouldn't have picked it up if I wasn't looking for it. Best we keep an eye on you, just in case."


	37. Feels like home, feels like dread

The following morning a large crowd gathered as Olberic and H'aanit ran Therion and Alfyn through their usual training. Therion couldn't say he enjoyed haveing so many spectators as they sparred, but it was a distraction he was capable of handling. At one point a nervous young man, in his upper teens at the most, stepped forward; a training sword held in his shaking arms. When Olberic welcomed him to join their practice it set off a chain reaction, with other prospective young warriors stepping up to join as well. Soon the square was filled with groups practicing their stances and swings while others paired off to spar. Several he even sent H'aanit's way- students eager to learn the bow or axe.

Therion did not fancy himself a teacher. Yet, somehow, he found himself roped into walking some of the newcomers through the exercises Olberic had taught to him. A few even challenged him to a few short spars. Even with all Olberic had taught him, their fighting styles still varied greatly. Therion did his best to evade hits. Biding his time to pick out holes in his foe's defenses, striking fast to knock back or disarm. Those he fought, and those who watched the spars, noted as much.

When they at last broke for breakfast, the square was still bustling with excitement and chatter. (They practically had to drag Cyrus away, as he had gotten caught up in a history lecture among some of the townspeople.) At the tavern Therion tucked himself away in a nice, quiet corner. It wouldn't remain that way long as his companions settled in around the rest of the table, but he could more or less handle them. Cryus commended Olberic and H'aanit on their skills as teachers- as it turned out both of them would help people with training back home.

"I have a young protege back in Cobbleston. Philip is his name, he is a brave lad." Olberic smiled, ever so slightly, at the fond memory. "He trains hard every day of his own accord, I have not doubts he shall be a stalwart protector of his town one day."

Ophilia smiled, "oh, that's so sweet! He must be looking forward to seeing you again."

"You shoulda seen him the other day!" Tressa laughed as she reached over the table for a jar of honey. "A bunch of kids from town and the orphanage were climbing all over him!"

"Ah, my back and shoulders still ache from that." Even so, Olberic smiled a touch wider.

"Do they? Ya know I can whip up a salve for that real easy-" Alfyn reached for his satchel, "might already have some mixed up."

Therion snorted and elbowed him lightly. "Eat first, medicine man. You can help old man Olberic with his back after."

"Brave words from a man who still gets knocked flat in your spars." Primrose added coolly.

He shrugged. "Those are spars. If we were ever in a real fight I'd just run for it, he wouldn't be able to catch me."

 

  
As the plates began to get cleared away, Tressa pulled out a map. "Alright, so... Cyrus wants to head to Duskbarrow- which looks to be a couple days north of here?" She scooted a jar out of the way and spread the map on the table, tapping the marker for the town. "And," she moved her hand down, tracing a road "the path towards Stillsnow is pretty close to here too."

Therion leaned over to get a better look. "When we head towards Stillsnow, I need to go to Northreach."

"Ah, perhaps the Frostlands shall be our next stop then?" Therion looked up at the professor, didn't they practically have to force him not to head to Duskbarrow alone? "With the season change the weather in the Frostlands will be getting harsher by the day, the sooner we can complete our business there the better."

H'aanit nodded, "I wouldst meeten with this seer as soon as we art able..." her expression saddened, her hand reaching for the twin rings hanging around her neck. "Master Z'aanta hast been cast within stone for many moons. If this seer truly can helpen..." Linde made a soft sound from under the table, rubbing against the huntress' legs.

"If we're trying to get done as soon as we can, then we might have to split up again." Therion sat back in his chair, pulling a small plum from his mantel and tossing it between his hands. "Supposed to be rough in Northreach right now. Entire town's overrun from what I've heard. Too many people and it'll be hard to lay low."

"Pulling off a heist on a den of thieves, sounds exciting." Primrose smirked at him, "perhaps I'll tag along, see just what an alleged master thief can do."

"I'd give you the same warning I gave Tressa, buuuut," Therion shrugged. "think I should be more worried for any poor sod who tries to cross you."

Tressa pouted, "Hey, I can defend myself just fine! Anyway- I want to head to Stillsnow with H'aanit. The local beets from there have gotten super popular, especially down south..."

Eventually they decided on two, even groups. Therion, Alfyn, Primrose, and Cyrus would head up towards Northreach while H'aanit, Tressa, Ophilia, and Olberic made their way to Stillsnow. With any luck, the local wildlife wouldn't give them too much trouble this time around. (Therion's mind drifted back to having his face in a frost bear's mouth. It was not an experience he wanted to repeat.)

 

  
Therion sat in a quiet corner of the inn common room, taking a moment to check over his gear for the Frostlands. The coat was still in rough shape after the bear attack, repairing it hadn't been a priority until now. The others had headed to the shops to gather provisions for the road, and normally Therion would have gone with them or at least make some rounds picking pockets. As of right now he was just thankful to have some peace and quiet.

There was a soft chuff, he looked up from his attempts to reconstruct the fabric to see Linde trotting into the room. She came over to greet him as H'aanit entered, settling in to her own seat. Their eyes met, and Therion nodded in greeting as Linde forced her face into one of his hands.

H'aanit eyed the mangle of cloth he was trying to stitch together. "Thou hast quite the repair to make. Musten haft been a formidable beast to leaven such marks."

"Frost Bear." Therion gave Linde one final scratch behind the ears before returning to the repairs. "First time camping in the Frostlands and one decided I looked like dinner."

"Ah." The huntress nodded, understanding. "Doth thou wish for cloth for a patch? I mayest haven something suitable."

He considered, staring down at the mangled mess of thread and thick woolen cloth. The tips of his fingers tingled from handling the rough fabric. "Yeah, that would be great, actually."

H'aanit opened her pack, rummaging around in the contents briefly before walking over with some bits of cloth, scraps leftover from other repair jobs or projects. She set them down and Therion started shifting through his options. "Thou's needle work is impressive, I suppose it is a skill that lends itself well to dexterous fingers."

"Also useful to make things last." He held a selected scrap up to his coat, judging if it would cover the area he needed it to. "I'm guessing you do a fair share of repairs too? That what the scraps are for?"

"Aye, thatten I do. However, a fair share of cloth art leftovers from other projects." H'aanit strolled back over to her pack, pulling out a long, flat, stitched object. Linde perked up, pouncing on it immediately when H'aanit tossed it to the floor. "Tis a toy for Linde, filled with unspun wool and dried catnip. Something to keepen her entertained when she cannot roam the wilderness."

Therion watched the snow leopard roll, rubbing her face against the toy before gripping it in her paws and kicking at it with her hind legs. Purring softly. "Well, she sure seems to like it."

"Thatten she does. Such play allowens her to practice her skills she uses on the hunt. I can keepen her fed whilst in towns, but she still desires to hunten for her meals." H'aanit leaned on her elbow, looking up from Linde to smile at him. "I dare say though may have a similar drive. Tis apparent when you and Alfyn engage in games of chase on the road."

Therion glanced up from his stitching, took in the room (they were to only ones around at the moment, at least), then returned his attention to the patch job. "I'm not going to start chasing small animals or pouncing on balls of crumpled paper like a cat, if that's what you're suggesting."

"I was simply stating mine observations. Mayhaps finding ways to enrich your beast's desire for the hunt wouldst better your connection. Thou art trying to be at peace with the creature?"

"...yeah. I'll think about it." He held out the coat, tugging at the seams and inspecting his work. "I'm not about to make a fool of myself to keep him entertained." The distant sound of the inn door opening signaled a need for a subject change. "So, a seer, hu? Most times I've seen people claim that title it's been some sort of scam."

H'aanit sighed, "mine master puts faith in her, so I shall as well. Though, he haft been taken in by gilded words in the past..."

Linde rolled back onto her feet, mrowing out a greeting as the others filtered into the room. Tressa set down a bag from the provisioner's, muttering to herself as she started sorting things between their two groups.

Alfyn pulled up a chair next to him as Tressa started handing off bundles to the other travelers. Extra plums for Ophilia and Cyrus, carefully packed jars of jam for the groups to share (handed off to H'aanit and Alfyn for safe keeping), roasted nuts, the typical fare.

"Oh, Therion, we got some apples for you!" Tressa tossed one of the fruits at him, which he caught without missing a beat. The variety was paler than those he was familiar with, pinks fading into yellows.

He gave the fruit a curious sniff. "Looks good."

"Come over here, there's more. And some bread and jerky and stuff." Tressa motioned for him to get up, she seemed pretty excited for just handing out their food.

Therion quirked his brow and stowed the apple away in his mantel. She wasn't the only one, Alfyn had an air of nervous energy about him too. He got up, placing his coat in his chair before walking over. If she had some sort of little prank planned, he was ready for her. (What could it be though, if Alfyn was in on it too?)

Tressa simply grinned at him. "Alright, here's your food-" she shoved the bundle into his arms, "and THIS is a little something from all of us!"

The young merchant pulled out a long strip of earthy green cloth- a scarf, Therion realized. Tressa held it out, waiting for him to take it.

"We couldn't find any purple ones, but, this should keep ya warm in the Frostlands. This was one of the softest ones they had- expensive but Alfyn said the scratchier wools bother you and you're gonna be wearing it against your face all the time."

Therion set aside the food bundle, taking to new scarf in hand. The material was soft, smooth and warm. Not yet tattered and stretched by years of use. The quality, it was nice. Too nice- this sort of wool was costly. "...you guys, you didn't have to-" He could feel his face burning, his eyes stinging. (Gods, he needed to get a hold of himself.)

"Well, if you don't want it, I could always..." Primrose reached for the scarf, snickering as Therion gripped it close.

"I'm not saying I don't want it, just, can't believe you're all just..." he stared down at the material, "giving this to me?" A small voice, instincts hard learned from years on the street, that there had to be some sort of catch. (These were his friends, he reminded himself. People who just... did good things for others, without expecting anything in return.) He hadn't done anything to warrant this. There had to be strings attached, a trap. (They wouldn't do that to him.)

An arm around his shoulders snapped him out of his thoughts. "Thought, the one ya lost was what ya had of your family... well, now you can have one t' remind ya of your friends. We can't really replace what ya lost, but, we can still be there for ya and keep ya warm." He looked up to see Alfyn was blushing furiously, eyes averted. Had he been practicing that?

There was a pause before Therion shrugged off Alfyn's arm, carefully unwinding the delicate desert scarf before replacing it with the green one. He sighed, nestling his face into the soft material. "...thank you. Everyone." He felt tears welling up of their own accord and buried his face deeper into the soft fabric.

He could almost swear, this was what home felt like.

 

 

Therion hated the cold.

Sure, the intense heat of the desert was horrible, but traveling in the Frostlands was even worse. The thick clothing restricted his movements, gloves on his hands hampered his dexterity. He felt slow, too slow, wading through the snow that still sapped away at his energy with every step. At least in the desert he could still move freely, not worry about fumbling his weapons into the snow.

Two days into the region Alfyn began to slow down. Dark circles formed under his eyes, his voice grew hoarse, he tried to dismiss it as the cold and dry air getting to him. It was apparent it was something more the following morning, his face flush and body burning.

Therion frowned, sitting up in his bedroll with the back of his hand pressed to Alfyn's forehead. "...I think you have a fever." This wasn't good, if Alfyn was getting sick then they couldn't risk dragging him around in the snow. Northreach wasn't safe but it was the nearest town.

Alfyn half groaned, half whined. "...sorry."

"Don't apologize. Here..." He reached over for Alfyn's satchel, rummaging through the contents. (Gods, it was such a mess.) "We still have some extra fever reducer that we made in Orewell, right?"

"Yeah, but," Alfyn forced himself up, reaching to lightly tug his satchel back. "gotta walk. That stuff'd put me t' sleep..."

Cyrus poked his head in as Therion worked to put together a quick remedy for Alfyn, referring mostly to the heavily marked book the apothecary carried. "Ah, the two of you are awake after all. Is there something amiss?"

Alfyn made a pitiful sound, pulling up his blanket to shield from the cold as the tent flap opened. Therion sighed, grinding ingredients together. "You could say that. Alfyn's burning up."

"I see. If I may?" Cyrus fully entered the tent, taking a closer look at Alfyn. "...the magical signature of the blood magic has only gotten weaker, I suspect that this malady is unrelated."

"Great, back up." Therion shooed Cyrus away, holding his creation up to Alfyn. "Doesn't matter if it's magical or not, we need to get him out of all this snow." None of them could carry him on their own if he collapsed. Once Alfyn took the medicine Therion started packing up the supplies. Going through the motions as worry gnawed at his gut.

This was a setback, but it was manageable. They should be able to get to Northreach before the medicine wore off. (What if it was more serious than it looked?) Surely the town would have a proper inn, once out of the cold and damp Alfyn would be fine. (What if he couldn't fix the medicine right?)

Therion kept a close eye on Alfyn as they made their way towards Northreach. The weather had cleared up, the reflected sunlight glaring on the white landscape. He gripped at the ends of his new scarf even as Alfyn shot him a reassuring smile.

The feeling of dread, the worry, wouldn't leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my defense, Alfyn's not injured, killed, or depressed.


	38. Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up getting longer than anticipated so I have split things in half.
> 
> Buckle in, we're in Northreach.

By the time their group neared Northreach the snow had returned, falling in thick clumps as a piercing wind blew. Therion pulled his scarf over his head as a makeshift hood to stave off the chill, clinging to Alfyn's arm to make sure he didn't get seperated from the group.

The town of Northreach felt as cold as the surrounding hills. Crumbling stone walls surrounded the settlement, the streets were practically empty. What people were out rushed out of sight quickly, heads ducked down. Trash stuck out of the discolored snow next to the buildings, Therion swore he could feel eyes on them from the shadows.

The innkeeper startled as their group stumbled in out of the snow. Cyrus stepped forward, securing their rooms while Alfyn leaned more of his weight against Therion. Primrose stepped in to assist as Therion stumbled.

Between the three of them they were able to guide Alfyn to one of the rooms, Therion and Primrose getting him settled into bed while Cyrus got a fire going in the room's hearth.

Alfyn mumbled something as Therion added another blanket on top of him, he couldn't make out all of it but he was pretty sure he heard Zeph in there somewhere. Primrose shook her head, "my, but he has it bad, doesn't he?"

Therion nodded, pulling a vial from Alfyn's satchel. "Yeah, the stuff I gave him this morning already wore off..." He inspected the concoction carefully before returning to Alfyn's bedside. "Sorry, Zeph's back in Clearbrook. You'll have to settle for me treating you."

Alfyn drank down the medicine, then settled back against the pillows. "...Zeph's satchel. Where is it?"

"It's back on the table. You want it next to the bed?" Therion set the rest of the medicine on the nightstand, getting up to retrieve the satchel when Alfyn nodded. "I can handle this from here, you two should go before you catch whatever this is too."

"Yes, but of course." Cyrus stood, dusting himself off. A roaring fire was now steadily warming the room. "We shall be right next door if you require and further assistance."

"I shall see if the inkeep has any food prepared." Primrose started to exit behind Cyrus.

"Hey." Therion called from his spot at the table, Alfyn's medical journal in hand. "Make sure Cyrus doesn't wander off into town alone. I want to try and lie low until Alfyn recovers."

Primrose nodded. "But of course. I'll keep an eye out for trouble."

 

Like Alfyn had warned, the mixture from Orewell knocked him right out. Sleeping through the afternoon until he awoke at sundown, parched and hungry and once again burning up. There was enough medicine left to get him through the night, but after that... Therion would need to make more. He dug through Alfyn's satchel again once the apothecary had fallen back to sleep. Most of what he needed was there, but one ingredient was missing: soothing seeds. They were a vital componant in many of Alfyn's mixtures, they helped to draw out the curative effects of certain plants and bolstered the body's healing.

Therion searched, and searched. He didn't want to really take everything out- Alfyn had some sort of system in place here with how quickly he always found what he needed. He was about to give up when he pulled out a familiar little pouch- yes! Victory! The little purse was what he had seen Alfyn storeing seeds in before. The thrill was short lived, within he found a lone seed. It was not nearly enough to make enough medicine to get Alfyn through this illness. He would have to head out in the morning.

With any luck, someone in town would have what he needed.

 

  
Therion awoke early the following morning as Alfyn started to stir. The apothecary groaned, burying his face into Therion's hair.

"Hey." He titled his head up, pressing their foreheads together. The fever wasn't back full force, but Alfyn still felt too warm. "Need me to get you some water? Tea?"

Alfyn's arms, loose around his waist, tightened ever so slightly. He shook his head. "Could ya stay, just a bit longer?"

"Hm, sure." Therion pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, "gotta get up sometime though. You're out of medicine. Going to have to go out for more seeds."

"Got chamomile and ginger root. Can make a tea t' ease these symptoms..."

"Why don't I get that going, then? Your voice sounds pretty rough." He pressed another kiss to Alfyn's forehead, then sat up. "If we've still got honey I'll add a bit of that too. Helps coat the throat, right?"

Alfyn cracked a small smile, "Yeah. You sure got a good memory, Ther."

"Just another skill that's helped keep me alive." Therion pulled out the needed materials. A metal pot, the herbs and ginger, a cup and the partial jar of slightly crystallized honey. He set to work bringing the fire back to life so he could boil the water.

Tea brewed, Therion carefully walked the cup back over to where Alfyn laid in bed. The soothing, herby smell filled the room. "It's still pretty hot, might want to let it cool." He set the cup down on the nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Aflyn carefully sat up, "thanks, Ther. Sorry again I went and got sick..."

"As much time as you spend around sick people, I'm just surprised you didn't catch something sooner." Therion poured just plain water into a second cup, passing it Alfyn's way. "Don't worry about it. Right now, let's just try and get you feeling better."

 

Once Alfyn had fallen back asleep, Therion geared up and silently slipped out of the room. It was still pretty early, the others were most likely still asleep. Let them, he shouldn't be gone for long. But, just in case, Therion pulled out a scrap of paper and wrote out a quick note.

_Heading to the shops, need ingredients for Alfyn's medicine._   
_If I'm not back when you guys get up check in on him._   
_He should be sleeping, if he wakes up make him some tea._   
_I'll be back soon._   
_-Therion_

Note slipped under the door to Cyrus and Primrose's shared room, Therion tugged his scarf back up into a makeshift hood and made his way out. Layers of ice and snow crunched under his boots as he made his way further into town. Like when they first arrived the streets felt empty, yet still Therion felt eyes on him. Heard heartbeats in the shadows.

The provisioner's shop was closer to the entrance of town, as Therion approached he noted a commotion. A lone merchant being shoved around by men in familiar gray cloaks as a few townspeople looked on.

"Please! No! That's my livelihood-" The young merchant was shoved over into the snow, the thieves cackling as they rushed off. "Somebody, help! Stop them!"

"Ain't nothin' for it." One of the bystanders stepped forward, helping the merchant to their feet. "Those thieves have run of th' town. Best not t' get too attached t' anything."

It seemed that Daruis' rule by fear extended beyond just his own men.

Therion slipped into the shop, kicking the snow off his boots and pulling the scarf down to just being around his neck and face again. He approached the counter, eyeing the shelves as he went. What items were on display were in poor condition. Bruised and borderline rotting fruits, what few vegetables there were had either wilted or were small for their variety. Bags of flour and grain torn open and spilling. Some of the shelves had been broken or otherwise needed repair. Work of Darius' men, he supposed.

He frowned into his scarf, approaching the sale counter. The shop keeper had been watching him out of the corner of his eye ever since he came in, pretending to busy himself with moving behind-the-counter stock. "Excuse me-" Therion put on one of his more pleasant tones, even so the shopkeeper flinched and continued to ignore him. "Sir? Do you carry any pharmaceutics? I need some soothing seeds."

The shopkeeper shook his head. "Fresh out. In fact, I was just about to close up, if you don't mind-"

"It's morning. Didn't you just open?" Therion watched as the shopkeeper seemed to panic, turning his back and moving some jars of dried herbs from shelf to shelf. Scanning the area behind the counter he spotted the reason why. A poster with a crude sketch of his likeness, a message written clearly in large, bold letters:

**WARNING**   
**ANY ASSOCIATION WITH THIS MAN**   
**WILL BE CONSIDERED DIRECT OPPOSITION**   
**TO LORD DARIUS**

  
Well, wasn't that just his luck. Darius had been expecting him. There was nobody else in the shop, but the entrance was likely being watched. He dropped his voice to a whisper, taking another step forward and leaning over the counter. His voice came out more desperate than he intended. "Look, I'm sorry for the trouble, but I really need those seeds to make medicine for my friend."

"I told you, out of stock." The shopkeeper's eyes darted to the door and front window. He moved up to the counter, acting like he was cleaning the surface as he dropped his own voice to a whisper as well. "There's an apothecary in town, you can try him. Might find him at the cemetery." He turned away, voice returning to full volume. "Please, just go."

Therion nodded, turning on his heel to exit the shop, pulling his scarf back over his head. If there was another apothecary in town, then maybe his luck was changing for the better after all. Best to have someone who knew what they were doing mixing the medicine, after all. It was just a matter of finding the individual in question.

 

He made his way further into town. It probably would have been smart to ask where, exactly, the cemetery was in town. At this point asking wasn't an option; if he caught the eye of anyone on the street they quickly averted their path away from him. Would he get the same treatment from the apothecary if he found them? (Well, if he had to steal what he needed, so be it.)

A man in a black cloak, flanked by two more in gray, stood in his path as he turned a corner. He wore a wicked, crooked grin. "Well, look who's drifted into our town, boys!" The two gray cloaks chuckled, stepping forward poised to draw their blades.

"I guess you're Darius' welcoming comity." Therion shifted his footing, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Think we can make this quick? I've got things to do."

The man in the black coat chuckled, "yer as cocky as 'e said ye be! We'll see if ye still got that smart mouth when th' boss is done with ye." He drew his own blade from under his cloak. "Get 'im!"

Therion was ready was the two gray cloaks rushed forward, drawing his sword and dodging one of their strikes in one smooth motion, parrying and knocking back the other. Their motions were too slow, unpracticed, Therion scoffed. "I see Darius still prefers quantity over quality."

Just as he sent one of the gray cloaks' daggers spinning across the icy road he heard hurried steps rushing in from all directions. At least a dozen more men, all wearing more of those gray cloaks, closing in and blocking off his escape routes. They were inexperienced, sure, but he couldn't take this many on at once on his own. Therion bristled, trying to remain calm as panic fought to surge up in the back of his mind.

It wasn't long before rough hands were on him, wrenching his sword out of his grip and twisting his arms behind his back. He heard himself snarl, tried to tug free, but it earned him nothing but dark laughter in his ears.

"Good, 'old 'im still." The black cloaked mad stepped forward, pulling a jar of dust from an inner pocket. He twisted the lid open, "Oi, one of ye get that scarf outta his face."

When a hand drew in close Therion snapped, growling as he snagged one of the thief's fingers in his mouth. Sharp teeth slicing through the skin, down to the bone and joint. The man screamed, yanking back his hand- resulting in Therion's teeth tearing into him further.

When the thief managed to pull his hand back his middle finger had been completely mangled. Blood covered Therion's mouth and he gave in to the temptation to lick it away. A few of the other gray cloaks, and the black cloak, took steps back. The grip on his arms remained tight.

"Good gods 'is teeth are like _knives_!" "Boss didn't say anythin' 'bout 'im being some sorta monster-" "Fuckin' **HELLS** we ain't really bringin' this thing back-"

"Enough, the lot of ye!" The man in the black cloak stepped forward again, throwing the contents of the jar into Therion's face. It stung in his eyes and nose, he coughed as the world started to swirl and drift. Sleeping dust? "Don't matter what 'e is- fucker's beat and boss wants 'im alive."

 

  
As he slowly returned to his senses, the first thing Therion noticed was the crackle of a fire and warmth. The second was- he wasn't bound in any way. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes- the powder left them feeling dry. Itchy. The room gradually came into focus. A simple house, unused by the cobwebs and dust on the empty shelves. The room was barren aside from a blanket he had been laid out on, and a familiar old man by the fire. Long white hair tied back with a ribbon, uniform a vibrant red with delicate gold detailing.

Therion sat up, coughing as the dry air and smoke irritated his already scratchy throat. Heathcoat stopped poking at the fire and turned to him. "Ah, you're awake. That didn't take long." He stepped forward, reaching into his coat and pulling out a handkerchief. "You may wish to clean yourself up before you head back out there."

"...talk fast. What are you doing here?" He dug out his water skin from his supplies. (None of his things seemed to have been touched. That was something. His sword was on the ground next to him as well.)

"Lady Cordelia was concerned for your safety and sent me ahead to gather more information on this Darius person. It is fortunate she did, what has become of your companions?"

Therion took a drink to sooth his throat, then at last accepted the handkerchief to wipe the remaining blood from his face. "...they're here. I just, needed to get something real quick." It was stupid for him to have gone off on his own, really. He frowned down at the sullied handkerchief. "Needed ingredients for medicine, or an apothecary. We came up this way for the stones but one of my friends came down with a fever."

"You need not explain. Your friend's recovery takes priority, I would expect no less." With a grunt of effort Heathcoat seated himself on the floor. "Though, the entire town seems to have been turned against you."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder." Therion tugged his scarf back up over his mouth. "...you're not planning to tell Cordelia about," he gestured with the bloodied handkerchief at his own face.

"About how you nearly removed a man's finger with a set of hidden fangs? It won't be the first secret I've had to keep." Heathcoat smirked and chuckled, "suppose I should be thankful you didn't see the need to bring those out when we fought."

"You weren't planning on killing me, or worse." He stowed away his water skin, tossing the handkerchief in Heathcoat's direction as he got back to his feet. "Guess I should thank you for saving my sorry ass back there. Before I go, I don't suppose you've spotted a graveyard around here?"

"There is one to the north side of town." Heathcoat started to push himself back on his feet when he paused, wincing as he tried to straighten his knees.

"...are, you okay there?" After a moment of hesitation- Heathcoat wasn't exactly his favorite person- Therion moved to help him to his feet.

"Quite alright, just my age catching up to me." He sighed, rubbing his fingers as he stepped back over towards the fire. "Be grateful for your youth while it lasts. The years catch up all too fast."

"I'll...keep that in mind." Therion made his way for the door. (He wasn't sure what might happen to him in coming years, if he would age or not. But the friends he's made...Alfyn...) He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "See you back in Bolderfall."

 

  
A different approach was needed as Therion made his way through the streets, no longer abandoned but swarming with thieves in gray cloaks. He clung to the shadows, slinked around corners and stepping where eyes didn't search. His main objective was to head north, get to the cemetery, find that apothecary.

As he waited for lingering groups to move, he slipped into his usual habit of eavesdropping.

"...drew th' fuckin' short straw. Freezin' my ass off while the others are nice and warm in th' tavern." "Coulda been worse. Hear th' group that hit th' inn ran int' trouble."

He froze, did he hear that right? Therion took a deep breath, ignoring the pit growing in his stomach as he listened more intently.

"Worse trouble than Randal gettin' 'is finger bit off? Or th' rest of us gettin' th' slip by that geezer?" "Evans said th' place caught fire. Only got th' one bloke, rest o' 'is team ain't back yet." "ooh, hate t' be in 'is shoes. Boss ain't gonna be happy 'bout that."

Therion's heart sank. (There didn't seem to be any smoke, either the fire was already out or the story was exaggerated.) Did he say they got someone? (Alfyn would have been defenseless if anyone broke into their room.) He needed to get back to the inn. (He needed to find out where they took Alfyn. If. If they took Alfyn. Who else would it have been? Cyrus was setting the place on fire and Prim, they wouldn't call her a bloke. And she'd gut them without hesitation.)

He slipped back into the alley, hurrying back towards the inn.

 

 

Alfyn felt horrible. The medicine had worn off and his fever was back, skin burning while an ache settled throughout his body. Whatever sleep he had been forced into made him feel even worse, his head swam and he felt like he had swallowed broken glass.

He was no longer in bed, or even back at the inn. He was seated upon cold stone, back pressed into an unforgiving pillar. His hands were tied to either side of the pillar, rough rope cut into his wrists. Alfyn shivered, the chill (was this place open to the outdoors?) was a blessing and a curse. In a way it felt soothing to his burning skin, but at the same time it felt so much colder in contrast to his higher temperature.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised th' only one that lot could get was a sorry little _mollycoddle_ like ye." Alfyn's eyes went wide and his head snapped up. For a moment he thought he heard and saw Miguel again. But, no, Miguel was dead. Laughter echoed in the cavernous area as the speaker stepped closer, dark green cloak draped over his shoulders, twirling a dagger in hand. "Now ain't that cute, ye look like ye've seen a ghost, mate."

The guy from Wellspring. Darius.

"Wha-" Alfyn's voice came out hoarse, pained. How did he wind up here? Cyrus, Primrose, Therion- where were they? He looked around the room- a large, open space that looked to be some sort of cathedral carved into the cavern. Trash littered the ground, most of the furniture was broken and shoved aside. This hadn't been a place of worship in a while. His head felt so hazy, his throat so sore, voicing his thoughts was difficult.

Darius let out another dark chuckle, stooping in front of Alfyn and gripping his face with his free hand. "Wonderin' where yer little friends are? Where Therion is?" He forced Alfyn to look him in the eye, "see, thought I'd use ye t' make a point. Therion's always had a a terrible sentimental streak. Either 'e finally learns t' save 'is own skin, leave ya here t' die..." He brought up the knife, pressing the cold metal above Alfyn's right eye. "Or ye both die here t'gether. Either way, he ain't gettin' ye back."

 

  
A crowd had gathered outside the inn. Two of the inn windows were open, pillars of ice jutted out from one. (Therion sighed internally. _Cyrus_. They were going to have to pay for that.) Sure enough, to find his companions he needed only listen for the voice of the exacerbated inn keeper.

With a quick check for gray or black cloaks, Therion approached as Cyrus tried to offer to thaw the room.

"I think you people have done more than enough damage! The thieves are bad enough, but for there to have been deaths in my inn-" He paused, staring wide-eyed at Therion. "You- that man is with you isn't he! This is why you've brought such misfortune on us! Just, leave, all of you, it'll only get worse the longer you're here."

Primrose turned to him, Alfyn's satchel slung over her shoulder. "Therion-" She looked relieved for about a second, then the expression fell. "We were worried they had gotten you as well."

Therion's eyes lingered on the satchel, Alfyn never went far without it. He really wasn't here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOME OF YOU GUESSED THIS DEVELOPMENT. To which I say, congrats, your turn to scream :D


	39. Final Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up, things are gonna get rough. Warning for near character death!

Alfyn was gone.

The thought looped over and over in the back of his head, panicked and worried. (He couldn't be sure how much of it was him, and how much of it was Craving.) But, he needed to keep calm. Think clearly. Take this one step at a time. They were in the open, Darius' men were searching the town. It was only a matter of time until they got spotted out here.

Therion took a deep breath as Cyrus, at last, broke away from the angry innkeeper and walked over. He held up a hand before the professor could start talking. "We need to get somewhere more secure. Follow me, keep quiet, we don't want to draw attention."

  
After several twists and turns Therion lead them into a secluded alley. It didn't sound like anyone else was near, but he gave one last check around the corners to be safe. They likely shouldn't linger for too long here. "I'm not surprised Darius has it out for me," he turned back to face Primrose and Cyrus, eyes averted to the ground, "but what he wants with the rest of you..." damn it all, just what was he planning? Why bother taking them alive? (From what Gareth had told him he had taken to making examples of people.) "We need to find Alfyn."

Cyrus nodded, "yes, I agree finding him is a priority. I doubt they have taken any consideration for his current condition. Perhaps I could ask some locals for more information, or-"

"Darius has men searching all over town. Too risky." Therion leaned against a wall, crossing his arms. "If we get into fights we'll only attract attention. There's a lot of them, not experienced but with their numbers that doesn't really matter."

"Perhaps we could get the information from one of those men." Primrose leaned on the opposite wall, mimicking Therion's pose. "Shouldn't be too difficult to get one of them to talk, I know a thing or two about loosening lips."

He considered, it was tempting. But, he also thought back to the encounter back in Wellspring. "These guys are more scared of Darius than anything we might do to them... call it plan B." Therion paused, holding up a hand- he could just make out a heartbeat not too far off. He moved slowly, peeking around the corner. A man in a gray cloak passed by, searching the alleys, thankfully he didn't choose to head in their direction. "...I have an idea. You two wait here a moment, I'll be right back."

 

Therion ducked around the corner and Primrose and Cyrus shared a concerned look. Before long the thief returned, smiling smugly and holding up two gray cloaks triumphantly. He tossed one over to each of them. "Disguises."

Primrose snickered, pulling the cloak on. "Oh, it's like being in a play." She tucked her long hair back, obscuring her face with the hood. "Do I look the part?"

"You both _look_ the part." Therion looked between the two of them. "Hope you're confident being silent actors, get the feeling either of you would be figured out the moment you open your mouths." He motioned them both closer. "Okay, here's the plan. This is a stealth mission, we're going to listen in and find out what we can from the goons. You two should blend in if you get spotted. If I get spotted- act like you're giving chase. We should be able to shake them."

Cyrus nodded, "and what if we get caught? What should we do then?"

"If one of us gets caught the rest can follow them to the hideout, bust them out once we get inside. We all get caught..." Therion shook his head, "we're screwed. If we can't get away then we don't let them take us without a fight."

 

They lingered in the shadows, searching out the members of Darius' gang. The gray cloaks didn't offer much in the way of new information. Worries about what might happen if they don't find their targets, complaints about the cold, gossip over what happened to other groups. Chatter came to a halt and they scattered whenever one of the black cloaks came into view.

Tailing one of the higher ranked black cloaks brought results. They managed to follow one man, grouchy and muttering how he needed a break, up north. The buildings ran out and they hid out of view behind gravestones. ( _No sign of that apothecary in the graveyard._ ) The man stomped up the steps of a long abandoned church, entering the small building.

"Hm, building seems small for such a large pack of thieves." Primrose commented as they cautiously crept closer.

Therion knocked, lightly, on the door before pushing it open. Empty, save for overturned pews and, "there's a passage in the back. Not even properly hidden." He scoffed. Sloppy work. Well, all the better for them. (Craving wanted to rush in, _this was where Alfyn was supposed to be, what was he waiting for?_ ) "The entrance is likely guarded." He closed the door, slinking back into cover. "Keep an eye out for another black cloak- I'm going to need a disguise myself to get in."

 

  
Darius lounged in a chair, leaning one elbow on a table as he carved up an apple with his dagger. The man looked increasingly bored and annoyed. He glanced over at his captive, the young apothecary was slumped forward as much as the ropes would allow him. Shaking, tears and blood dripping to the floor below. He sliced away a rotting portion of the fruit, flicking it across the room where it landed in Alfyn's hair. "Ye still cryin' over there? _Pathetic._ What does Therion see in a sad sap like ye anyhow, ain't like ye can even start t' understand the shit 'e's seen." He barked out a loud, brash laugh, "willin' t' bet I know more 'bout 'im than ye ever will! Ain't that sad?"

Alfyn took in a shuddering breath. His right eye had swollen shut from the deep cut that extended from his brow to his cheek. He was too cold, too warm, tremors wreaked his body and he wasn't sure if it was the cold or adrenaline. "I-" his voice was rough, pained, his throat was so sore. "I don't have t' prove anything to you- you _bastard_."

"He ever tell ya that 'is mum used t' sing 'im t' sleep at night, when 'e wasn't feelin' well? Woke up a few times, late at night, him mumblin' the little tune t' 'imself." Darius flicked away another bruised spot, leering at Alfyn trying to gauge his expression. "Was right annoyin', 'ad t' beat it outta 'im. Almost worse than 'im wakin' me up sobbin'."

" _You-_ " Alfyn strained against the ropes, glaring at Darius through his still working eye. "If you _understood_ so well how could ya make him suffer so much more?!" A fresh wave of tears welled up, spilling down his face.

Darius laughed, the harsh sound echoing in the cavern. "I understood 'e was an easy target. A steppin' stool on me way t' the top. He was a fool t' trust me, fool t' trust anyone really." He gestured with his dagger, "just look what bein' with 'im got ye. Tha's just life, mate. Trustin' others makes ya weak- an' it's gonna get ye both dead."

Alfyn shook his head, "You're wrong. Therion's strong _because_ he can trust us. He found it in himself t' let us in even after what you put him through. Friends, loved ones, they hold ya up when th' world beats ya down. That support makes us all stronger than we could ever be alone."

"Oh just **shut**. **Up**." Darius chucked the rest of his apple, the fruit impacting the side of Alfyn's head. "This ain't some story book. The real world ain't all sunshine an' happy endin's. Friendship ain't got magical powers, fairies ain't real, an' no knight in shinin' armor is gonna save ya." He stood, storming off before Alfyn could recover enough to reply.

 

 

Therion carefully tucked his white hair out of sight under the dark, slightly over-sized hood. "How do I look, convincing?"

Primrose hummed, tapping her cheek. "Pretty convincing, though you may want to lower your scarf. None of these men have been hiding the lower half of their faces."

He hummed, reaching for the scarf. He tugged it down, "you think the teeth won't blow my cover?"

"I do not believe people pay as much attention to your mouth as you think they do, Therion." Cyrus commented, adjusting his own cloak, grimacing at the rough material. "Plus, they are only apparent if you open your mouth, as opposed to the scarf being clear at a glance."

"Right, let's hope word of me biting off some guy's finger hasn't spread then. Follow my lead." Therion started walking, gait tall and confident. No longer slinking but striding like he owned the town.

Cyrus stuttered, running to catch up as their group strolled out of the alley and out into the open. None of the other gray cloaks gave them a second look. They made their way back to the graveyard, into the abandoned church, and down the stairs of what had once been a hidden passage. It appeared to be an extension of the church itself, decorated with crumbling motifs of Aelfric the further in they dwelled. A small group of gray cloaks stood to attention as they came down the stairs, falling into combat-ready stances.

"W-who goes there?" Therion sized them up. Young- just a bunch of kids really.

Therion sneered, barking out his best attempt at a northern accent. "Silence, fools!" He crossed his arms, taking another step forward. "Ye got guts, forgettin' who yer leader is. Be glad th' boss don't hear 'bout this."

The guards each took a step back. "S-sorry, sir! We jus-" "sh- no, ye know they 'ate when we make excuses." "Go, go right ahead sir."

"That's more like it." He strolled forward, pausing as he passed. "One more thing, some bloke claimin' t' be me might come by. Don't let 'im in, ya hear?"

"Yes sir! Of course!" The gray cloaked guards saluted, letting them pass before falling back into formation.

 

They hurried further in into what appeared to be used as a dining area. Bottles and used mugs littered the ground and the place stank of stale beer. Primrose tittered, "my, but you're quite the actor, Therion. I dare say you would do well in theater."

Therion hurried down a flight of stairs. "Can't say I can see myself on stage. Come on, we should hurry."

The place, likely once holy and used for worship, had long fallen into ruin and disrepair. The thieves who now dwelled here showed no respect if the lingering trash and smells gave any indication. Here and there ragged, torn rugs covered the cold stone floors. Every statue they passed was missing its head, which somehow unnerved Therion more than it would if they had been intact. If Cyrus or Primrose made other comments, he didn't hear them. Alfyn had to be here somewhere, but where?

The smell of blood hit him. Therion paused for but a moment as the realization set in, eyes going wide. ( _Was it Alfyn?_ Who else could it be? _He was here. He was hurt._ ) He broke into a run, the distance between him and the others growing rapidly. (Distantly he heard Primrose yell for him to slow down- but he couldn't. He had to hurry, _hurry-_ )

Therion burst into a large, open space that may have been a cathedral, once upon a time. Lined with pews and crumbling pillars, a headless statue of Aelfric- the grandest he had seen yet, at the head of the great hall. Two tables sat among the pews housing glittering stones- the emerald and gold dragonstones.

But, he hadn't come for those.

He rushed past them, past the statue until he at last spotted Alfyn, bound to one of the crumbling pillars. The smell of blood was stronger, Therion's heart sank and he rushed forward. "Alfyn?" He was still warm- burning- to the touch.

The apothecary lifted his head and Therion drew in a sharp breath at his injury. His face was tear streaked, sweaty from his fever. (That was dangerous, cold as it was in here.) "...Therion? You're wearing your hair back." Alfyn smiled weakly, "looks good on ya."

"Gods-" Therion took a deep breath, pulled out his knife, and made quick work of the ropes. "Just, hang in there, we're gonna get you out of here." He pulled off the black cloak, using it to cover Alfyn so he had some sort of protection from the cold. (But, where would they go? Where _could_ they go? The inn was closed to them. Heathcoat's safe house?)

Looping Alfyn's arms over his shoulders, Therion got ready to pull him to his feet. He picked up on footsteps behind him. "Cyrus? Prim? I could use a hand h-" He gasped in air as a piercing pain bloomed at his back and stomach. He coughed, the metallic taste of his own blood filling his mouth. In front of him Alfyn let out a loud, ragged shout, hands gripping tight into his shoulders.

"You really made this too easy, mate." Darius' voice was loud in his ears. Therion slowly looked down, the blade of Darius' sword extended from his abdomen and into Alfyn's gut. "Ain't ye two a pretty picture, though? A matchin' set." He felt a boot stomp into his back as Darius wrenched his blade free. "Tell ya what, 'm feelin' nice, ye two c'n bleed out t'gether before we toss ya out for th' wolves."

Therion, distantly, heard the sounds of rushing footsteps and shouting voices as Cyrus and Primrose caught up. (The pain was horrible- but he needed to focus.) He took in deep, shaking breaths. He was hurt- but he would be fine. More concerning was the injury Alfyn had taken. He needed to do something, fast. Pressure, he needed to apply pressure- Therion grasped at the black cloak, bunching it up and pressing it over Alfyn's wound with both hands.

Darius spun around, blood dripping from his blade, face plastered with a wicked grin. "Yer already too late- unless o' course yer here t' join 'em."

There was a blast of cold as Cyrus fired off a spell, the clashing of metal. "Mind your aim, Cyrus! You nearly hit them!" Primrose, sounded like she was fighting hand-to-hand with Darius.

The battle waged behind his back, meanwhile Therion felt truly useless. What else could he do? He needed bandages- but he needed to keep applying pressure. His mind raced, what was he supposed to do from here? He needed help- Primrose, she had Alfyn's satchel. But, she was busy fighting Darius. There had to be something else he could do but sit here-

"Th-Therion..." Alfyn's voice, small and course, snapped him out of his thoughts. His grip on his shoulders had gotten looser. "I. I can't feel my legs." Therion felt his heart sink- did Darius hit his spine? Alfyn struggled to take in a breath and pressed on. "H-hey, I, I don't have any regrets. Travelin' with ya. I love ya, and...and I hope... ya find someone else t' love again- ya hear me?"

Therion shook his head, eyes stinging as his own tears welled up. "Don't talk like that. You're going to be okay." Alfyn _had_ to be okay, he couldn't, he couldn't lose him. Not like this.

Not because of _him_.

Alfyn reached up, weakly pulling their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, Therion, t' leave ya so soon..." Therion felt his grip weakening, could hear his heart struggling.

( _No, no no no- something- they had to do something-_ )

A thought forced its way into his mind and Therion acted on it without hesitation, desperate. He bit his tongue, hard- it was bleeding more than it had been the last time they did this, then pressed their lips together, forcing his blood into Alfyn's mouth. Alfyn drew in a sharp breath, strength returning to his grip. (Craving assured him, _this would help, they could save him._ )

There was a tense moment when nothing seemed to be happening. They simply clung desperately together, the sounds of the fight fading from focus. Alfyn broke away from the kiss, breathing heavily, good eye hazy.

Then Therion watched his face grimace in pain as he screamed, the hands on his shoulders tightening with a bruising force. Red light shone from Alfyn's wounds as they sealed and scarred over. The glowing faded and Alfyn slumped against him- still breathing, heart beating, the burn of his fever gone. Therion pulled off his scarf, folding it into a makeshift pillow as he laid Alfyn down carefully. His mouth was still open, Therion noticed the points of two small fangs.

Alive. He was alive. But...at what cost?

 

Therion stood, turning around slowly, eyes locking onto Darius. The battle had ground to a halt when Alfyn had begun screaming- three sets of stunned, confused eyes were on him. He drew his sword and stepped forward. "I'll handle this from here." His voice dripped with venom, barely contained anger.

"What th' hells?" Darius, to his credit, actually looked a little scared. "How th' _fuck_ are ye standin'? How many times do I have t' kill ya?" He rushed forward and Therion parried his blow just as he had practiced with Olberic. Darius snarled.

Therion twisted their blades, forcing Darius back as he pressed forward. "You know, you're a real piece of work... _partner._ " He spat out the last word with disdain as he began his onslaught, forcing Darius on the defensive. "Using people and throwing them away, again and again. And for what? Money? Power?" He got a hit, dodging around Darius' swing and striking him in the arm. Darius' sword clattered to the ground, followed shortly by himself. Therion stood with his sword poised at the back of his neck. "Pretty damn lonely life, pushing everyone away."

"I- I don't fuckin' need anyone! I got to th' top on me own once- I'll do it again! No matter how many sods I have t' step on!" Darius ducked forward, gripping his injured arm as he ran from the room. Primrose poised with her dagger, Therion shook his head.

"Let him go. He isn't worth it." He sheathed his sword, watching Darius' cloak vanish around a corner.

Battle over, adrenaline fading, Therion's hand moved up to grip at his gaping stomach wound. His head was spinning, the world tilted as his knees gave out.

 

He found himself in a familiar place. Craving's lair, dark and smelling of blood. Therion spotted Craving a ways off, hunched over. He made his way over, making out a form wrapped in Craving's wings.

Alfyn didn't shine as bright as he used to. His eyes were closed. ( _Was that normal, for this place? Should he be worried?_ ) "Craving- is he okay?"

The demon looked up at him, pulling back enough for Therion to get a better look at him. Blood red runes draped around Alfyn's body like chains, linking him to Craving much as Therion's did.

What had they done?


	40. Rest

Therion dropped, hitting the ground like a stone. Primrose sheathed her blade and ran to his side, turning him onto his back and feeling for his pulse. She took in a deep breath, opening and digging into Alfyn's satchel. "Don't you die on us too, now..." Primrose frowned, pulling out jars and bundles of herbs as she searched.

Cyrus stepped forward, kneeling opposite Primrose as he looked the unconscious thief over. Aside from the major wound to his abdomen, blood trickled from his mouth as well. "He should be able to pull through, though the more blood he loses the more he will need upon awakening."

"I should have ended that man..." Primrose at last pulled the bandages from Alfyn's satchel, setting them aside as she began removing Therion's coat to access his wound. "...Alfyn did not deserve to die, not here. Not like this."

Cyrus helped to prop Therion up as Primrose wrapped the bandages around his middle, blood soaking into the gauze. "That he did not..." His gaze trailed over to where the apothecary lay, blood staining the ground and his clothing, Therion's scarf carefully folded under his head.

That was strange, actually. If Alfyn had passed away, why take care to cushion his head?

Primrose tied off the bandages, covering Therion back up with his clothing and coat. She began packing away the other items she had pulled out while Cyrus carefully laid the thief back down.

"Actually, I wonder-" Cyrus stood, making his way over to Alfyn. Getting closer he could make out the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. "Primrose- he isn't dead."

"Are you certain?" Primrose joined him, reopening the satchel. "Damn it all, that may have been the last of the bandages." She glanced over at Alfyn, concerned, "I am going for help, do you think you will be alright here?"

Cyrus nodded and Primrose removed the satchel, pressing it into his hands. "Try not to burn the place down."

The professor kneeled at Alfyn's side as Primrose hurried off. Alfyn was alive, that was a good thing, now he needed to make sure he remained so until help arrived. He picked up the crumpled black cloak, the material was damp and sticky from the blood it had already soaked up. Actually, if Alfyn was still bleeding would he be breathing right now?

Checking where the wound should be, Cyrus found drying blood crusting over intact skin. He was healed. Also noticeable- he was cold. Shivering. The fever he had been suffering from seemed to be gone.

If he wasn't bleeding out- ah he needed to keep him warm. He opened and rummaged in his own pack, bringing out the blanket from his bedroll. He tucked it over the young apothecary, being sure to cover his bare feet. He muttered an incantation, bringing a ball of flame to life in his hand. It wasn't was good as a proper camp fire, but it would be better than nothing at all.

In the dim fire light a flicker of something poking from Alfyn's mouth caught Cyrus' eye. "What's this, now?" He pushed back Alfyn's lip to reveal his teeth. His canines had changed in shape, grown longer. Sharper. Pieces fell into place- the blood coming from Therion's mouth, Alfyn's miraculous recovery. The magical signature he now gave off as well- it was clear blood magic now flowed through Alfyn's veins. Cyrus pulled back his hand. "This is- did Therion transfer his vampirism?"

 

  
Primrose marched with purpose back through the chapel, gray cloak billowing around her and hand to the hilt of her dagger. The place was large, with winding paths, but hopefully she could navigate back out quickly enough. (There was no telling how much time they had, if any, for Alfyn.)

A voice echoed from down one of the side halls and she paused, recognizing it as belonging to the red haired man- Darius- who had attempted to orchestrate their deaths. The image of him standing with his sword through Therion and Alfyn was still fresh and clear in her mind. That grin on his face as their blood dripped from his blade.

Therion had said he wasn't worth killing.

But, he wasn't here right now.

Primrose slipped down the side passage, silencing her steps as she drew closer to the commanding voice, clinging to the shadows as she reached the room- a treasure storage, coins glittering in the open chests. Darius, still bleeding, barked out orders to two men in black cloaks as he tried to salvage the treasure and leave.

The cloaked men shared a look before one stepped forward, drawing a dagger and stabbing Darius right in the gut. The red haired man gasped, dropping to the floor, grasping at his injury. "You- **traitors!** I'm th' boss here- how- how dare you-"

One of the cloaked men spat at his feet. "Like any o' us cares." The other man hefted one of the chests, turning to leave. Primrose pressed to the wall. "Gareth was th' only one who ever gave a damn 'bout ye." They made their exit, thankfully without a glance in her direction.

Well, it would seem his own men beat her to it. She moved to leave.

A broken sob came from the treasure room. "Is somebody there? Gareth? ...Therion? Anyone- please- h-help me..."

Primrose sucked in a breath, spinning on her heel and marching into the room, yanking the hood of her disguise back. "You dare cry for help from the very man you tried to kill?"

Darius stared back at her, eyes wide and full of fear. Crumpled to the floor, gripping at his bleeding wounds, he looked so small now.

It started to sink in, and Primrose shook her head. "I think I see now, why Therion wanted to spare you. You're no man. Just a sad, lost boy. You want help?" She pulled out her dagger, the engraved blade glinting in the dim light. "The most I can grant you is a quicker death."

 

 

Therion shook his head, taking a step back. Faint red lights accented the scene before him, Craving carefully cradling a sleeping Alfyn in his massive wings. Alfyn was bound in the blood runes now, just like he was.

He had damned him to hell. Just as he was.

"We shouldn't have done this." He fell to the ground, pressing his hands to his face like that might hold back the tears that threatened to well up. "Damn it we shouldn't have done this-"

Craving huffed out a breath, shuffling closer. Therion felt one of the leathery wings loop around his body, lightly tugging him against the large wall of fur that composed the demon's body. ( _Why sad? Grass man okay. Grass man live._ )

"We shouldn't have done this to him, Craving!" Therion gave the demon a shove, but he didn't budge. "He didn't deserve being brought back as a monster! He- he didn't deserve having his afterlife stolen away from him!" Therion could accept himself being bound for hell, with the mess his life was he wouldn't even say he'd be surprised to wind up there even if a demon wasn't involved. But Alfyn? He was a good person. He was destined for better. He deserved to be reunited with his mom and any others he had lost.

Craving just stared at him blankly. He didn't understand, did he? Therion growled in frustration, burying his face in his hands again. "We should have let him die, Craving."

( _Die? No!_ ) Craving's grip around both of them tightened. ( _Love Grass Man. Want Grass Man to stay._ )

"It wasn't- it shouldn't have been our call to make." Therion took in a wavering breath, peeking through his fingers to where Alfyn was cradled against Craving's other wing. Still alseep, which still worried him. "Damn it, Alfyn...you deserved better than any of this."

 

 

Therion groaned as he drifted back to the waking world, the pain in his gut and back welcoming him. Probably going to be a couple days until that healed up. (Craving whined at the back of his mind, hungry.) Wherever he was now, it was warmer than that forgotten church catacomb. Blankets, felt like he was in a bedroll. There were voices, people talking, and he listened in out of habit.

"...assure you he is not a danger to anybody here." Sounded like Cyrus. "Though it may be best if we procured some blood for when he awakens- I don't suppose there's a butcher in town?"

"Not dangerous? Bullshite! Ye see what that bastard did t' me hand!?" The voice shouting over Cyrus didn't sound familiar. "Th' 'pothecary 'ad t' cut me finger off!"

"You're free to leave at any time." The third voice was familiar, and one he honestly didn't expect to hear again. "And, no, passed by the other day and the old place had closed down."

Therion cracked his eyes open and looked over. Sure enough, it was Ogen. Looking tired and concerned. Next to him, seated at a table gripping a mug in a shaking hand, was a stranger in an all too familiar gray cloak. (What was one of Darius' men doing here? And since when would grumpy old Ogen be okay with a thief under his care?) Therion moved to push himself up, wincing as his wound protested.

"Steady, now." Primrose moved to help him sit up before calling over her shoulder, "Cyrus, he's awake."

"Ah-" the scholar appeared from around a corner. (Back at the table Darius' lackey was staring with wide eyes, like he thought Therion might spring up at any moment.) "Are you holding up alright? We were just discussing how to get you the blood you need to recover."

"I'll be fine." Talking hurt, his tongue was sore. He took another quick survey of the room, there was the table and a small kitchen area around a hearth. Stairs leading to an upper level. "...where's Alfyn?"

"Was still asleep, last we checked on him, but he's stable." Ogen picked up a kettle, pouring steaming liquid into a cup before walking over. "Whatever you did to him, his wounds are healed. I didn't see any signs of a fever either."

Therion accepted the cup, taking in the gentle smell of the tea. (Smelled like... chamomile?)

What he had done. He frowned into his cup. It was all his fault, what had happened. Darius only went after Alfyn because of his association with him. He should have been more cautious, not rushed in when they did find him. (Let his guard down, stupid.) And... he was selfish. He should have let him go. Not turn him into...

A gentle hand rested on his shoulder and he looked up to see Primrose, concerned. "We are keeping an eye on him, you should get more rest."

He took a small sip of the tea. "...I..." his voice came out quiet, he glanced over towards Ogen and Cyrus. "I messed up, I- I did something awful to Alfyn." Hot liquid sloshed onto his hand from his cup as his hand shook, he set it down. "Something that, we can't fix. Cyrus, I- I should have kept that promise- but I-" His eyes burned, he felt a tear spill over. (Since when had he gotten so soft?) (That. That didn't matter right now. He fucked up, horribly.)

"Oh, Therion... here." Primrose gestured, arms out in an offer for a hug. He leaned in, Primrose hugging him gently and rubbing small circles into his back. "You had a rough day. But it's over now, you can rest."


	41. Damned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooboy this was a rocky one that hurt to write.

Alfyn groaned, pulling his blanket tighter around himself as his mind drifted back to wakefulness. The soft quilt was warm and cozy, and nothing seemed to remain of the fever that had muddled his mind. He felt better, which made him wonder: just how long had he been in bed anyway? With a yawn and a stretch he sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he looked around the room. Was this the same inn room he was in before? The fever must have screwed with his mind more than he thought, because where else would he be?

The door to the room opened, Cyrus stepping in, a concerned expression on his face and book in hand. The professor's expression lightened when he noticed Alfyn, "ah, you are awake! How are you feeling?"

Alfyn put on his best reassuring smile, "shucks, I'm feelin' loads better! Sorry to make you all worry, that fever slammed me like a frost bear."

The worry crept back into Cyrus' expression. "Is, the fever all you remember?"

"Well," Alfyn rubbed at the back of his neck, "it fogged up my head somethin' awful. Had some pretty bad fever dreams..." hazy memories of that man from Wellspring, Darius, taunting him. Tormenting him, really. But, it had to be just a dream, if he had REALLY been stabbed through he wouldn't be alive right now.

That in mind, it had all felt so real. He could still remember the cold, the cruel sneer Darius wore, the pain as a knife was dragged slowly down his face. Alfyn reached up, pausing as his fingers traced over a thin scar in that very spot.

Dreams don't leave scars.

"...Cyrus." Realization slowly sank in. What he remembered, it wasn't all a fever dream, was it? "What happened, when I was out?"

Cyrus hummed, setting his book aside. "We were ambushed by brigands at the inn this morning. Apparently Therion had headed out to procure ingredients for your medicine- and, unfortunately, you were alone when we found ourselves attacked..." He sighed, sitting at the foot of the bed. "You were abducted by them. I believe the leader wanted to...use us, to get an upper hand on Therion. It was a strategy that nearly worked as well... Therion ran ahead when we found where you were taken. By the time Primrose and I caught up..." He paused again, hesitating to continue.

But, he didn't have to. The memories, foggy as they were, drifted back. Therion, with his hair worn back, looking both relieved and concerned as he came to his rescue. How short lived their reunion was as Darius ambushed them, striking and piercing them both through. Alfyn lowered a hand to his stomach, feeling the new scar just over his belly button.

He remembered not being able to feel his legs anymore. Alfyn wiggled his toes, that didn't seem to be the case now. An injury like that to the gut, even with a healer around the chances of surviving the infection that would have resulted...they would have been slim. He should be paralyzed. He should be dead.

"...that bastard stabbed us both." Alfyn frowned. He had been fading fast- the last thing he could remember was Therion pressing their lips together in a desperate kiss. Conventional healing magic didn't leave these kinds of scars, it wouldn't be able to touch the illness causing his fever either.

Cyrus nodded. "I believe Therion found a way to save you. However- and I do not wish to alarm you- but I think he may have spread his vampirism to you."

Alfyn mulled that over, taking a moment to check his teeth. They seemed mostly normal, not all sharp like Therion's were. Therion had said he hadn't gotten sick since he got turned, so that would explain why he wasn't sick anymore, he supposed. "Are ya sure? I mean, I don't feel all that different from normal." A loud grumble issued from his empty stomach. "Shucks, all I'm hungry for is some food. Some bread and stew would do me wonders. Maybe whatever Therion did will fade like last time?"

"Perhaps." Cyrus stood as Alfyn moved to get up. "It will take time for us to know, though even if the magic fades you will likely retain the physical changes. I believe Therion may have other concerns as well, though he has not been able to clarify what those are." He picked up his book as the two of them headed back towards the door. "Ah! I almost forgot, we have been barred from returning to the town's inn after the incident this morning, luckily the apothecary we found has been so kind as to allow us to stay here while the two of you recover."

 

The two of them stepped out into a small hallway, Alfyn leading the way down the narrow steps. The sound of soft chatter drifted from below along with the gentle crackle of a fire. The place reminded Alfyn of home, in a way, modestly decorated but warm and inviting. Sprigs of herbs hung over the hearth to dry, the gentle smell of brewed tea.

"...it would be nice to think, that things could start to improve around here. But," Alfyn spotted a familiar face as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Ogen was currently busy, wrapping fresh gauze onto a stranger's hand. The old apothecary shook his head. "Northreach is far from the town it used to be. The rest of the thieves are still around, might just be a matter of time until one of them takes the lead."

The young man having his hand bandaged slumped in his seat, occasionally glancing away from Ogen to a corner of the room. "None o' th' higher ups really. _Liked_ dealin' with th' rest o' us. Only guy who did, he ain't been back. Think 'e might be..." He trailed off, a sad look on his face.

Seeing there was a lull in the current conversation, Alfyn stepped into the room. "Shucks, Ogen- is that you?" He smiled wide, "didn't think I'd be seein' ya again so soon!"

Ogen tied off the bandage, allowing his startled looking patient to shrink back in his seat. "I was surprised as well." He wiped his hands off with a cloth as he turned to face him, expression stern. "You're lucky to have survived, given what you friends have told me of your injuries."

"Heh, yeah, ain't the first time someone's yanked me away from death. I'll try not t' make a habit of it." Alfyn settled in an empty chair, taking in the rest of the room. Primrose sat in a corner and he shot her a wave. Next to her, white hair poking out from under blankets, looked to be Therion. Hopefully still asleep, he likely needed the rest.

Ogen's patient shifted in his seat, attempting to subtly scoot his chair away as it scraped across the floor. Alfyn directed a smile and wave his way as well, the young man kept his focus to the floor.

Ogen shook his head, packing away his supplies. "You don't have to be afraid of him, Randal. If anything you should thank him, wasn't that long ago I wouldn't have given a thief such as yourself a second chance." He cleared the last of the sullied bandages from the table, turning to the small kitchen area by the hearth.

Randal grumbled as Cyrus took up one of the other seats at the table. The young thief moved his bandaged hand out of sight. "Th' other monster bit me finger off, 'ow do I know 'e ain't gonna 'ave a go at me too?"

"H-hey now." Alfyn frowned. "We're not monsters-"

Randal pointed at Cyrus, "'e keeps goin' on 'bout 'ow th' other guy's gonna need **blood**!"

"Will you quit shouting, I'm not going to eat you. I have standards." Therion had propped himself up slightly, still looking tired with dark circles under his eyes and hair a wild nest. He moved to sit up, wincing in pain before Primrose moved to help.

"He does need blood, yes, but that alone does not make a monster. From what I have been able to piece together-" Cyrus flipped open his book as he began to attempt to describe the mechanics of vampirism and blood magic to the young thief.

Alfyn stood, making his way over to where Therion sat in his bedroll. "Sorry 'bout wakin' ya up. How are you feeling?" He stooped by the bedside, getting comfortable on his knees.

Therion ran his fingers through his hair. "...been better. Been worse." He kept his eyes averted, voice quiet. Was he still shaken from confronting Darius?

"Hey," Alfyn put on his best reassuring smile, reaching out to gently cup Therion's face, "it's gonna be okay. We're here for ya."

Therion took in a deep breath, closing his eyes tight as he leaned into the touch. After a long moment he reached up, lightly pushing Alfyn's hand away as he shook his head. "Sorry, I can't..."

"Therion?" Alfyn lowered his hand. Something wasn't right here, Therion seemed... guilty? "Hey, I know a lot happened today, but I ain't about t' blame ya for th' awful stuff that Darius fellow did." He smiled again. "You saved me today, you know that, right?"

Therion's reply was so quiet, Alfyn struggled to hear it. "I didn't save you."

"Well, sure ya did-" Alfyn reached to place a hand on Therion's shoulder.

"No, I _didn't_ -" Therion's voice raised in volume as he shrugged off Alfyn's hand, wincing as the motion irritated his injury. "I- I should have let you **die** \- I-" The words hit like a stone as tears welled up in the thief's eyes.

For a moment the room seemed to go silent save for the crackle of the flame in the hearth. This just, it didn't add up. Did something happen that he didn't remember, was he still dreaming?

_It hurt._

"...okay." Alfyn stood, taking a step back. Almost everyone was looking his way (everyone except... Therion still wouldn't even look at him). "I. Don't know what I did. But. Okay." He could feel the sting in his eyes, the threat of tears trying to well up.

He should go.

"It wasn't you." Alfyn paused when Therion spoke up again, glancing back in his direction. "It was me. What I did. I didn't want to lose you, and I..." He stopped, taking in a deep breath.

"...and now, what, you're having second thoughts about saving me at all?" It _hurt_. Alfyn shook his head, trying to hold his own tears back. He needed to go, before he said something he'd really regret. He turned to leave again.

"I **damned you to hell** , Alfyn!" Therion's shout stopped him in his tracks. "I was selfish and stole your afterlife from you! I-" Therion took in a ragged breath, followed by a sob.

So, that was it then. Alfyn took a deep breath, letting it out in a sigh before turning around. "I'm not angry, about you possibly turning me into a vampire. But- I mean- we don't know that this is permanent. Might wear off like last time."

Therion shook his head, "it's not going to wear off." He looked up then, eyes red and face streaked with tears. "There are these... runes. Some sort of binding? That connect me to Craving. I saw you, in that place, when we were both out." He looked away again. "You had the bindings too. We're stuck going wherever he goes, and since I don't think the gods are about to welcome a literal demon into the heavens..." he paused to wipe off his face. "I'm, I'm sorry, for whatever it's worth...you're a good man, Alfyn. You don't deserve hell."

The room fell quiet again as everything sank in. It wasn't that long ago now- back before he set out on his journey- that Alfyn hadn't been the strongest believer in the gods and the idea of an afterlife. Though, after the events in Whispermill it was hard to deny that, at the least, hell was a real place. Alfyn frowned, rubbing at the back of his neck. Talk of runes and demons and hell- meanwhile what Therion had said still stung. "I think, I need to," he turned to leave again, pausing at the exit to the room.

He felt like he should say something, anything. Thoughts and emotion swirled in his mind and the words wouldn't come, just the overwhelming need to get away so he could cry out all the hurt and frustration.

Therion heard the heavy footfalls as Alfyn retreated back up the stairs. He curled forward, pulling his blanket up to his nose. This was it, then. ( _They were his friends, friends forgive-_ ) **No** , no he couldn't fool himself over this. This wasn't some minor squabble or misunderstanding. This was setting bridges aflame and watching them burn.

A gentle hand found his shoulder as a heavy sob shook his body. Therion allowed himself to be pulled, gently, into an embrace.

Cyrus broke the silence. "I, ah, believe this is the first time you have ever mentioned runes-"

Primrose fixed a look at the professor, "Cyrus. Not now." She rubbed small circles into Therion's back as the thief leaned against her. "Easy now, you both just need some time to calm down."

 

  
Alfyn sat on the bed, face buried in the pillow he had hugged to his chest. A soft knock issued from the door and he tried to straighten up his posture, rubbing the tears from his face even as they were immediately replaced. "Just, just a minute, I-"

The door opened, admitting Ogen- a cup of sweet smelling tea in hand. The older apothecary stepped silently into the room, closing the door behind him, setting the cup of tea on the nightstand.

Alfyn watched as Ogen then pulled up the chair from the room's desk, turning it his way before taking a seat. Alfyn sighed, rubbing at his face again, "if you're here to just say ya told me so..."

Ogen shook his head. "I'm not." A pause as he folded his hands in his lap, gazing out the frosted window. "Wanted to check on you."

"Oh." Alfyn sighed, loosening his grip on the pillow and reaching for the tea. He took a small sip, relaxing as he felt warmed from the inside out. "Thanks... and sorry about all-" he released the pillow and gestured with his hand, "kinda. Made a bit of a scene back there..."

Ogen shook his head again, "don't worry about it. These things happen in our line of work, people under stress and going through trauma. Pain can make them do or say things that they later regret."

Alfyn nodded, putting his other hand against his cup to allow it to warm his fingers. It felt nice. "Yeah...ya got a point there." He took another sip. "Part of me still doesn't really, feel like it's real? The whole being damned thing. Like, I don't have time t' worry about where I might wind up when dead, I just wanna make th' most of the time I do have."

"Can't say I'm any sort of expert on the subject." Ogen looked back in his direction. mouth quirking into a small grin. "But, I guess that means we'll be seeing each other there."

Alfyn snorted into his drink. "I mean, I guess maybe? Though... thinking about it... yeah, I'd be in good company at least." He smiled.


	42. Thawing Hearts

Therion idly prodded at a chunk of potato floating in his bowl of stew. He knew he should eat, he hadn't had anything to eat all day and he could feel the hunger gnawing at his insides. Even so, he couldn't say he had much of an apatite at the moment. He was _tired_. Physically, emotionally, it was tempting to curl back up in his bedroll and just sleep.

Alfyn hadn't been back down yet. Therion couldn't help but replay the conversation over again in his head. He sighed and forced himself to take a bite. He messed up, it wasn't a surprise that Alfyn likely didn't want to even look at him right now.

While Therion's injuries kept him in his bedroll, the others were seated at the table while they ate. He would catch them glancing his way now and again. Why were they still so worried about him? (They were his friends. Of course they were worried.) (But after what he did, did he still deserve their friendship?)

A sound of sniffling came from the table, Therion glanced up in time to see the young thief, Randal, hastily wiping his face with his unbandaged hand.

Ogen looked up, a hint of concern peeking through his usually stern expression. "Is there something wrong?"

"No-" Randal hunched his shoulders, staring down at his bowl. More tears began to well up in his eyes. "No... jus'... 's good. Th' food." He picked his spoon back up, stirring his stew and he sank further into his coat, voice dropping to almost a whisper. "...ain't 'ave cookin' like this since Gareth...didn't come back."

"We can send him a letter for you, if you want." Therion chimed in from the floor. "If he's not still working with the Wellspring guard he's probably helping with things out in Riverford."

Randal dropped his spoon.

 

Once everyone was done with the meal they each set to their own tasks. Ogen busied himself with the dishes, meanwhile Primrose sat with Randal at the table- ink, pen, and paper set up for a letter. The young thief mumbled as he tried to work out just what he wanted to say, and normally Therion might have found himself listening in.

He grimaced as he bit into Cyrus' arm. The scholar's blood had stung before, but now the sensation was almost overwhelming. Hot and cold and sour all at once, the flavors clashing as they fought for dominance. There was no winning with mages, was there?

Cyrus looked down at his bleeding arm with curiosity when Therion pulled away. "Now, what is that look for? You were already aware my blood apparently burns."

" _Eugh_ " Therion stuck out his tongue. "It got worse. Tastes like that smell you get when spells clash." Less a smell and more like his insides were being eaten away at. It satisfied his need for blood, at least.

Therion settled back into the bedroll as Cyrus cleaned the wound and bandaged himself up. He was ready to drift off, attempt to put the stressful day behind him, to deal with the consequences tomorrow, when the creak of the floorboards overhead signaled Alfyn was up and moving again.

He was tempted to look when he heard him start down the stairs. But, maybe it would be best if he pretended to sleep. Alfyn might still be looking to keep his distance, after all.

And yet, Alfyn still approached, nodding at him in acknowledgment before taking a seat on the floor by the bed roll. "Hey." His voice was subdued, quiet. "Thought, maybe we should. Talk. I, I'm not angry, just." He paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. "just, some of what ya said, it hurts. Hearin' someone ya love, say ya should be dead..."

Therion nodded, taking in a deep breath before letting it out slow. "...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have-" he paused, wincing as he moved to sit up as pain shot through him from his middle. Alfyn moved to help him, maneuvering his pillow to support him in his new position. "I shouldn't have said..." he kept his gaze averted, staring at the grain of the wood floor. "I am glad. That you survived. I just, feel like- what I did was selfish." He pushed a hand through his hair, steeling himself to hold back any tears. "I forced you to come back and didn't think about what that would do to you."

A warm arm settled over his shoulder, pulling him gently to Alfyn's chest. "It's going to be okay. We've got time to figure things out. Together."

Therion smiled, relaxing into and returning the embrace, pressing his face over the steady beat of Alfyn's heart. Together. The thought was hopeful- the situation wasn't ideal but Alfyn was still willing to keep moving forward. A small laugh escaped him as he went to speak. "Right. Together. I love you."

Alfyn pressed a kiss to the top of his head, "I love you, too."

Therion let out a contented sigh. They would be okay. Tomorrow they would set out and put this entire gods forsaken town behind them. With Darius running off and the local thieves scattering he no longer had to worry about the safety of his friends. No more endangering himself and others over those stupid-

**_The Stones_**. Therion's eyes snapped wide, the swear he muttered muffled into Alfyn's shirt. The Dragonstones- the reason they had dragged themselves through ice and snow into this town to begin with- he had completely forgotten to snatch them up when he had the chance.

Therion lifted his face just enough to be able to speak. "Damn it all- I didn't grab the stones. What do you think the chances are the other thieves ignored the massive gems?" Great. Just, great. Who knows how long it could take to track them down again, what other sort of dangerous situations he would have to throw himself into to get them back.

Alfyn frowned, rubbing circles into his back. "Damn... maybe if we hurry-"

"Boys" Primrose called from the table, carefully folding away the letter she had been transcribing. "Before either of you go running off, why don't you check inside Alfyn's satchel?"

"My-" Alfyn reached up, gripping at the shoulder his satchel strap normally rested on. "My satchel! Where-" He quickly glanced around the room.

"Over here," Cyrus waved and stood from his chair, picking up the satchel from where it rested by his feet. "My apologies, I required bandages for my arm and did not think to return it when I was finished."

The professor handed off the satchel to Alfyn, who breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright, let's take a look then, shall we?" He flipped open the main pouch, rummaging as he rearranged some of his out-of-place supplies. "Salve, seed pouch, gauze, mortar, pes-wait" he pulled his hand out, a glittering stone in hand. Crystalline and metallic all at once, a golden sheen that danced and flashed both within the stone and on its surface.

There was no mistaking it, the golden dragonstone. Therion took the stone in his hands- it was too light for it to truly be gold. He dragged his eyes away from the stone to see Primrose smiling smugly, leaning on the table.

Therion smiled. "You're a godsend, Primrose." He was going to owe her for this for a long time.

 

  
After a night spent huddled close for warmth on the floor, the group was able to set out the following morning. Therion's wound had sealed over, though the area remained tender and he still had to move gingerly to avoid pain. They prepared to set out, Ogen stocking their supplies from his own stores.

Ogen handed over one last bundle to Alfyn as they were headed out the door. "Here, some herbs I harvested the other day- along with some seeds from my stores."

"Shucks," Alfyn scratched lightly at his face before accepting the bundle. "I can't thank ya enough- for takin' care of us an' all."

Ogen shrugged. "Way I see it, we're still far from even." He shook his head, placing a hand on Alfyn's shoulder. "It might be much to ask, but... there was a boy I meant to speak with in Boulderfall. He was gone, when I passed through on my way here. Set out on his own journey from what I could gather. Kit is his name. If you by chance meet with him..." he paused, thinking or hesitating, "let him know, there's a home waiting for him in Northreach. And. That I'm sorry."

Alfyn nodded. "I'll keep an eye out, old patient of yours?"

"Someone I should have been there for." He gave Alfyn's shoulder a pat before dropping his hand. "You and your friends watch your backs on the roads."

"We will! And you try to stay healthy, ya hear?" Alfyn held open his arms in invitation.

Ogen rolled his eyes, but still accepted the brief hug.

  
And so they set out on the road, making their way out towards Stillsnow. A light snow fell, sparse flakes dusting their clothing as they trudged along the paths. They had to camp a night before they would be able to reach Stillsnow. They made do, warming the inside of the tent and drying their travel clothes with the aid of Cyrus and Therion's flames.

For being a small town tucked away in the frozen hellscape that was the Frostlands, Stillsnow was surprisingly warm. As they neared town they could see groups of people- skating on the frozen lake, sledding down hills. Children building and knocking over snowmen and pelting each other with snowballs. The sound of laughter and excited shouting echoed over the quiet winterscape.

Familiar voices joined the commotion, a brief scan of their surroundings and Therion spotted most of their friends. Tressa and Linde- the snow leopard more full of energy that Therion had ever seen- ran and tumbled in the snow pursued by a gaggle of children. Meanwhile not far off Ophilia and Olberic assisted a smaller group with building a large snowman.

Alfyn waved and called out as the group approached. "Hey! Looks like y'all've been having a good time!"

Ophilia and Olberic waved back, the children with them glancing briefly at the new arrivals. Linde came bounding up, weaving between each of them with a welcoming chuff. It looked like just about everyone was here, everyone except...

Therion scratched Linde behind her ears. "Say, where's H'aanit?" Something hadn't happened to her, had it?

"She is back in town," Ophilia handed over small stones that the children were using as decorations for their sculpture. "She is assisting Lady Susana with brewing a special remedy."

"A remedy?" That had gotten Alfyn's attention. "Oh! For Z'aanta?"

Olberic shook his head, dusting the snow from his gloved hands. "Not quite, but close. Mayhaps we should take this discussion someplace warmer."

A shout from behind interrupted the discussion. Therion jolted, turning to look just in time to be greeted by a faceful of wet, compact snow.

Tressa cackled. "I GOT you! You should see the look on your face!"

Therion sighed, directing his attention back towards Olberic. "Someplace warmer sounds great."


End file.
